


Another Reason to Believe

by CarylDixonandGrimes (FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN)



Series: On My Way Back Home [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Both Rick and Daryl are SAFE in this story, Daryl basically saves Rick from himself, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hershel is a therapist, Major Character Death refers to previous tag, My apologies to Lori Shane and Carl, New Friendship, Rick is a hot mess, Rick is an investment advisor, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, Seriously this guy gets tossed through the wringer, TWD Big Bang 2016, depressed Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes
Summary: Slow burn Rickyl.  Rick and Lori are on the outs, but thanks to Rick’s friend/therapist, he decides to give their marriage one last try.  Enter Daryl Dixon, architect extraordinaire.  An eccentric creature that was responsible for an outstanding remodel of Lori’s good friend Jacqui’s home.  Lori and Daryl spend weeks planning a remodel of the Grimes’ family home. Disaster strikes.  Rick is thrown into a tailspin and sinks deep into depression.Be sure to check out the fantastic art/manips that Skarlatha has done for the chapter!  Chapter 1 and 2 images are being added now!  More to follow!If you have not already done so, be sure to subscribe to the awesomeness that isSkarlatha's Ao3 page!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Big Bang, and I was lucky enough to be paired up with the uber talented Skarlatha as both beta and artist for my story. This was also my first time using a beta, aside from having a friend read it to tell me if it's crap or not. Skari made my first experience being beta'd an exceptionally positive one, and I was downright terrified of being eviscerated which is why I've never sought the help of a beta before. 
> 
> Let me also say that while this story does delve into grief and depression, these two things affect every person differently. I actually wrote this in the midst of an unmedicated state of "seasonal affective disorder" and post-partum depression, which is incredibly hard to do. So descriptions of Rick enduring this emotional struggle were taken from my own experiences. I started writing this nearly a year ago, then I had a baby, and it was shelved for awhile. I blew the dust off it when the Big Bang was created. I thought an 8k word project would be a snap. Not so... this ended up ballooning into something much bigger. So I give to you the first of a three part series, which will take our duo to friendship, love, and beyond. Part one is complete, and posted here. 
> 
> And it's Norman's Birthday today! Happy Birthday!
> 
> (If there are any tags that you feel should be included, PLEASE let me know. It is not my intention to trivialize anyone's personal experiences for entertainment purposes.)

The man sat across from him.  Eyes pensive, his grey hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, tied with a strip of leather.  His fingers tapped in quick succession across his knee as he watched him, waiting for him to speak.

“Rick, we only have an hour.  Half that time has already passed.  Is there anything that you wish to share with me, or discuss today?  Or will we just be sitting idly by?”

Rick rubbed his hand over the ankle he had slung on top of his knee, giving the man a half hearted shrug.

“Did you work on the things I asked you to work on since our last session?”

Rick averted his eyes, and the man nodded his head in disappointment.  “I can only do so much, you know....”

“I’m sorry, Dr. G.  Not too proud of myself these days.”

“Mm-hm.  And why is that?” The doctor pulled his notepad into his lap and clicked his pen, ready to take notes.

Rick ran his fingers over his lips as if he could will the necessary words to come forth.  “Because I haven’t been a good husband.”

“Can you explain further?”

Rick groaned.  

“Don’t act like a petulant child, that gets you nowhere.  Honest words here, Rick.  Honest words.”

“I haven’t been a good husband, because I work too many hours trying to put away money for my son’s college fund, even though his education is already paid for.  And my wife, she...“ Rick’s cheeks took on a flush. “She has no desire to be intimate with me.”

“Intimate in what way?”

“You really want me to discuss my sex life?”

Dr. Greene put down his notepad and paper, and leaning his elbows onto his knees, he made himself near eye level with Rick.  “Rick… you wouldn’t be here if you were not serious about getting some help.  And you can’t get help unless we discuss things.  Now I’m not asking you to give me details that you might find in a romance novel, but there are many different forms and levels of intimacy.  Throw me a bone here, so I can point you in the right direction.  I am a busy man, I want to help you, but I retired from my position as a guidance counselor for a reason.  I want to work with adults and attend to my hobbies, not hormonal emotional teenagers.”

Dr. Greene had been a guidance counselor at Rick’s high school, one that Rick had spent lots of time with, both during and after his years there as a student.  Dr. Greene had retired several years ago, but given he was still a licensed therapist, he took on a few patients here and there just to keep his mind fresh.  Rick had started coming around again after a recent slew of marital issues with Lori.  They had gotten married right out of high school, had their first child just months after finishing college, and over the years with them both being busy with work and life, they had seemingly drifted apart.  

The spark was gone, they had both on occasion tried to rekindle it, but it was often met with  _ not tonight, dear _ or  _ I have a headache _ or  _ Shane needs my help  _ or  _ I have a conference out of town that weekend. _

“Okay.  So it’s been 4 months since we’ve had sex.  I can’t tell you the last time she kissed me on the lips.  We sleep in the same bed at night, but we don't touch.  She claims she’s a light sleeper…”

“And have you tried instituting date night?  To get reaquainted with one another?”

Rick shook his head, “She shot me down.  I had a plan and everything, and she chastised me for not checking with her first.  Said she already had a girl’s weekend planned, and would prefer something more mature than going to the movies.”

“Mmm-hm, and you didn’t think to offer to take her out to dinner?  Something classier, that she felt was more… I don’t know, age appropriate?”

“What’s wrong with the movies?”

“In my estimation, nothing.  But perhaps that’s just not her cup of tea.  What about taking on a project together?  Landscaping.  Putting in a garden.  Maybe repainting a room?  Something the two of you can work on that requires time spent together.”

“Oh god… All I’ve been hearing about for months is her friend Jacqui, and how Jacqui’s got a new house.  This amazing architect drew up the plans.  It’s the home of her dreams.   _ And why can’t we do something like that Rick?  Why can’t we have nice things?  And a nice home? _  And…”  Rick’s voice turned up an octave taking on the shrill nature of Lori’s voice, with a heavy dose of added sarcasm.

“Stop right there.  Why not humor her?  Go see the architect?”

“You mean give in?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.  This is something you can work on together.  See what she wants.  I’m a firm believer that happiness starts at home.  If there’s something offputting about your place, maybe something as simple as adding a three season porch or adding on that 3 bay garage with an in-law apartment you’ve been talking about for years... It doesn’t have to be a grandiose expenditure, but maybe a little updating around the home would help lead her to a happier place and a warmer heart.”

Rick had referred to Lori on more than one occasion as the Ice Queen.  He always felt guilty afterwards, but in the heat of discussion, it sometimes slipped.  Thankfully never to her face.  He sat back in his chair muddling over what Dr. Greene had said.  Would it really hurt to just take her to this architect that she was so hot to trot to check out?  It would take what, a couple hours?  Tops?  That seemed easy enough.

“Alright, alright.  I’ll mention it to her at dinner tonight.”

“Good.  The hour is up, and it’s time for you to scoot.  I’ve got gran’babies to go take care of!”  He was off his chair and at the door in a flash opening it for Rick and ushering him out.

“How is Maggie doing?”

“Oh, she’s tired.  The twins are a rambunctious bunch and keep her on her toes.  I pop by when I can to give her a break so she can shower, or cook, or whatever.  And hey, I get a free meal and to visit with my family.  It’s all good with me.”

Rick nodded in agreement, and smiled back.  “So, same time then next week Doc?”

“It’s Hershel, we’re not in high school anymore. And yes.  I expect you to have some news of the architectural variety for me next week.”  He pulled the door shut, shook Rick’s hand, and was scuttled off to his car.

Rick chuckled at the sight of Hershel zipping off down the driveway eager to be with family.  He wished he felt the same about his own.  Their teenaged son, Carl, was a typical teenager who wanted nothing to do with his parents.  And Lori was, Lori.  Not pleased by much of anything he said or did of late.  He slowly descended the steps making his way to the car, and drove home hoping that he wouldn’t be met with the all too common visceral attitude his wife had claimed.

 

* * *

 

“So, think you can get that architect’s phone number from Jacqui?” Rick asked, over dinner.  

Lori’s fork stopped mid twist in her plate of pasta and meatballs.  “You’re joking, right?” she scoffed.

“No, I’m serious.  You’ve been going on about Jacqui’s house for months.  This place hasn’t seen any updates in years.  Plenty of equity to take out a loan for some changes…” His voice trailed off, and he quickly stuffed his mouth with a forkful of spaghetti.

Lori squinted at Rick, as if she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.  “What changed?  You’ve dismissed it every time I’ve brought it up.”

“Just thought it’s been awhile since we done anything together.  It’s a bit more ‘grown up’ than a night at the movies.”

Lori resumed loading the pasta to her fork, her eyebrows pulled into a deep frown.  

“I guess I can get the number from Jacqui, if you’re really serious….”

“I am.  We can go Friday afternoon if they have an opening, I’ll get out of work early.”

A shy smile spread across Lori’s lips, and she nodded looking quite pleased.  “Okay.  Sounds great!”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet Daryl! He's a bit eccentric, at moments it almost felt like I was writing Eugene, haha! Daryl's appearance is based on this photo:
> 
>  
> 
> Ridiculously Hot Motorcycle Man! 
> 
>  
> 
> And check out the fantastic photo manip below that Skari created for this chapter!

Friday came quickly.  Rick excused himself from work early, as he could do.  He made his own schedule being self employed, he was a life and health insurance agent and investment specialist.  His income was commission based, with some products he sold providing income on an annual basis.  Being in the business for over 15 years meant he could take a day off from work if he wanted to.  He would still have a decent paycheck at the end of the month even if he left work early or missed a few days.

Lori had met him at the door of their home, holding her purse primly in her hands, her face lit up in a grin.   

“Let me just change out of this monkey suit, I’ll meet you in the car,”  and for once, she didn’t flinch away from his touch when he placed his hand gently on her shoulder as he walked past.  He raced up the stairs, tossed his suit, shirt and tie on the bed, and threw on a pair of Levi’s that were just the right kind of snug in just the right places.  Lori had mentioned how much she liked them, many moons ago.  He also donned a black shirt, and he pulled on his boots. Comfortable cowboy boots that he had for years and re-soled a half dozen times rather than buy new ones.

He was back out the door in minutes, and they were on their way.  Lori prattled on about the different things that they could get done.  Budget dependent, of course.  But oh how she’d love a small inground pool, the kind that had an accompanying hot tub.  That would require a pool house.  Maybe it could be more like a small guest house?  Like the inlaw apartment they had talked about at one time.  Rick’s parents were both gone, and Lori’s were getting on in their years.  It might be nice to have them close by.

Rick smiled and nodded as was necessary, enjoying the light in Lori’s eyes.  A much welcomed change from the lecturing and stern looks he usually got.

They pulled into the parking lot of Raleigh Architectural Associates, a sprawling corporate structure that resembled a piece of modern art.  All metal and glass, lots of glass.  The business name was etched on the massive glass doors that Rick pulled open for Lori, leading into a large foyer with a semi circular desk and a frazzled looking blonde answering the phones.  Lori and Rick waited politely for her to finish directing her calls…. “Raleigh Architectural, how may I direct your call? One moment please!”  

“Sorry, I’m new!” she apologized. “Thank you for waiting.  My name is Amy. Who are you here to see?”

Lori pulled a business card from her purse, and read off the name, “Um, Daryl Dixon?  He came highly recommended from a friend.”

The girl’s eyebrows rose slightly at the name. “Okay… lemme just check with his assistant.”

She picked up the phone and dialed a number, “Carol?  Is Mr. Dixon in?  There’s some people here to see him?”  There was a pause, and they watched as her cheeks flushed and she took on an awkward look. “Okay, so what do I tell them then…. Uh-huh….. uh-huh…. oh.”  She gently placed the phone down, and winced as she looked back at Rick and Lori.

“Um, Carol… she’s his personal assistant slash interior designer.  Um… she said… she said he’s not here.  He went to lunch hours ago and she hasn’t been able to get ahold of him.”

Just then the deep rumble of a motorcycle could be heard pulling into the parking lot.  A man astride a black Triumph pulled into view, swinging his leg off the bike, tucking his sunglasses into the backpack on his back and running a hand through his hair, releasing it from itshelmet head hold.

“Oh good, that’s him!” Amy said excitedly, “He’s a character, bit eccentric.  I don’t ‘ _ get him _ ’ per se, but folks around here say he’s all kinds of brilliant.”

Lori’s eyes grew wide as the man strode up to the desk to collect his messages, not even acknowledging their presence.  

“Uh, Mr. Dixon?” Amy tried getting his attention.  “Mr. and Mrs. Grimes are here to see you?”  

He grunted in response, shuffling through the stack of pink messages, pulling out a few, and tossing the rest.  He shoved them haphazardly into his pocket, and then turned to greet Rick and Lori.  

“Call me Daryl,” he shook Lori’s hand, and then Rick’s.  “Pleasure…” Rick’s voice trailed off upon catching sight of Daryl’s eyes.  They were blue.  Not just any blue.  No, this was a blue unlike anything that Rick had ever seen.  It was the blue of a crisp cool day, the kind of brilliant blue over fall colors as the autumn foliage turned in an orchard.  He had to remind himself to let go of Daryl’s hand after realizing he’d held it a moment or so too long.  

“Come on back to my office.  We’ll chat.”  He led the way through a set of doors, down a long hallway, past a small city of cubicles, and through a set of large wooden doors.  Inside was a small office, modest desk set up with a cheerful silvery grey haired woman speaking with someone via a wireless headset.  She smiled politely at Rick and Lori, and glared at Daryl as he walked past her to hang up his jacket and pack.  She ended her call just as he was going through another set of doors, “Daryl Dixon, do you care to explain yourself?”

Her harsh tone meant business and he stopped midway through the door, looking back at her over his shoulder.  “No,” was his simple gruff response.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours.  Abraham ran into some issues with Merle with the Williams jobsite…” her eyebrows raised high up into her forehead, and her smile was that forced speaking through gritted teeth smile trying to hide that there was a major issue, but failing.  

“Did you…”

“Yes, I took care of it.  Don’t I always?”

Daryl nodded, giving her a half smile. “Yes, ma’am.  Thank you.”

“You owe me.” She turned and smiled genuinely at Rick and Lori.  “Daryl is a wonderful talented and highly creative man.  He’s a marshmallow wrapped in a cactus exterior, so please don’t take his gruff attitude personally or seriously.”  She looked back at Daryl who was now glaring at her, “Now YOU go work some magic and make these fine people happy.  I’ll collect from you later.”

Daryl stood back holding the door open so Rick and Lori could enter his office.  It was a large corner office.  A small conference table with 6 chairs was by the window, and a large desk with a massive computer screen was tucked to the side allowing to see the full view out the window.  Daryl’s view consisted of a peach orchard, flanked by forest and off in the distance you could see the mountains.  He gestured to the conference table for them to sit, and walked over to a large cabinet opening a door and revealing a mini-bar.  “What can I get you?  Soda, water, tea, coffee, scotch?”

“Just water, thanks.” Lori sat down in her chair, Rick sat opposite her.  “I’m all set, thanks.”

Daryl placed the water bottle and glass by Lori, and walked to his desk grabbing a large tablet and seating himself at the head of the conference table.

“Address?” he asked.  Lori rattled it off to him.

He sat back in his chair, his ankle over his knee, holding the tablet in his lap tapping away on the screen.  

“And what is it that brought you here today?” he continued typing away on his screen, never once meeting their eyes.

“Uh, well… my friend Jacqui, you designed her home.  We went to a housewarming party there recently, it’s truly beautiful, and-”

“Jacqui, hm.  Took two years to get her plans right.”

“Yes, but the work was-”

“Superb?  Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

Lori gaped at Rick, and then looked back at Daryl.  He was running his fingers over the screen, seemingly not paying attention at all.

“What’s yer budget?”

Rick leaned onto his elbows on the table, “We don’t have a set budget at this time, but we’d like to discuss our options given the style home we have and what will make my wife happy.  If you’d be so kind as to listen to her, it would be most appreciated.”

“Mm-hm,” Daryl raised and eyebrow, turning his chair slightly more toward Lori but still his hands working the tablet, never lifting an eye. “Tell me what you want.  Describe it.  Gimme all the details.  Wait, scratch that a sec.  What is it that you do?”

“I’m in investments and insurance.  Sales.  Lori is involved with the local board of education, and works in dermatology.”

“Kids?”

“One.  A son.  He’s a teenager.”

“Planning on havin’ more?”

“Does it matter?” asked Lori.

Daryl looked up from his tablet, “It matters.”

“We tried, but never got lucky,” her voice wistful and strained all at once.

Daryl nodded, and went back to his tablet.

“And you?” he turned his chair slightly towards Rick.  “Any input or am I speaking with the wife directly?”

“I aim to please,” Rick smiled at Lori.

Daryl proceeded to ignore Rick for the remainder of the meeting.  It ran two hours.  Rick listened as Lori talked about everything under the sun.  From the way the sunlight hit Carl’s hair in the early mornings as she nursed him in the rocking chair, to her favorite Van Gogh painting that she saw at MoMA in New York when she was 13, to the pattern on her grandmother’s wedding china.  Daryl would nod or grunt at random, ask the occasional short question for information or clarification.  They discussed favorite vacations, to the olive orchard she visited in Italy on her honeymoon with Rick.  Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement reliving all the wonderful memories.  Her grin as she talked was infectious, and Rick wondered if he wasn’t just falling a little bit in love with her all over again.  He hadn’t seen this side of his wife in a very long time, and it pleased him.  Maybe this really was the right move.  Maybe this would make her happy, bring them back together again?

“I’m sorry,” Lori sniffled, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. “I don’t know where that came from.  Talking about Peaches makes me sad sometimes.”

“Miniature poodle?” Daryl asked.

“Yes,” Lori nodded, sniffling again and dabbing under her eyes.

“Them things are worse than Chihuahua’s.  Vicious ankle biters.  I’d take fighting a chupacabra over sharing a room with a poodle any day.”

“What?” Lori laughed.

“Poodles are terrifying!” Daryl insisted.  Rick snorted at the bizarre turn in the conversation.  Turn was not the right word, the entire meeting was bizarre.

“Wait, chupacabra?  You know those aren’t real, right?”

Dary looked up from the tablet, nearly leveling Rick with the blueness of his eyes, dead serious expression on his face.  “Sure as the sun shone down upon your boy’s head as he lay in his momma’s arms, I seen one. I shit you not.”

Daryl stood from the table, and walked to his desk.  He tapped the keys bringing the monstrous computer screen to life.  A few more keystrokes, movements of the mouse, and the windows tinted smoky dark.  A screen lowered from the ceiling along with a projector.  Daryl popped back over to his seat at the conference table.

“Wonderful thing about computers and the information superhighway… I pulled up photos of your home, Google maps,” he explained. “Town website provided detailed tax assessment complete with rooms, outside dimensions, etc.  So I basically recreated a blueprint of your house.  I added on a two bay garage attached in-law apartment.  Stone patio, and adjoining small inground pool.  Your home would get a wrap around porch, with the backside holding a three season porch.  Without current blueprints and inside measurements, I can’t give you an accurate representation of indoor upgrades, however, I did do a rough draw up of what could go down.”  Daryl gestured to the screen, and both Grimes turned and looked.  Before them was a 360 degree sketch of their updated home.  

Daryl added a stained glass reproduction panel in the master bedroom of Lori’s favorite painting, which earned him an appreciative gasp and teary eyes.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think about crown moulding, would that look good in that room?... Hmm. Alright, no I was on Pinterest, and- ...  Yes, I know you told me to stay away from that site, but there are so many creative ideas, and… Please, Daryl?  Can I just email you a few so I know you know what I’m talking about?  The kitchen cabinets, I’m really going for a specific look, and... Thank you!  I’ll email them to you this weekend.  Thank you so much!”

Rick chuckled as he listened to Lori, obviously on the phone with Daryl going over the design for the upteenth time.  She’d spoken with him on almost a daily basis since their initial meeting two weeks ago.  Rick had been having his best few months in sales, in years.  The market was booming, and his commission checks and accompanying renewals were helping to fund the renovations without help from the bank.  Carl had enough in his college fund to go to any private university in the US for four years, and graduation was still a few years away.  Life was good, things were headed in a positive direction for the first time in a long while.

They were still not intimate.  But Lori was starting to warm to him again.  She’d hold his hand, give him a peck on the cheek any time she left the house or arrived back home. It was a welcomed respite from the tension that had so plagued them of late.  Maybe there was still hope for them after all.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three deaths in this chapter. My apologies to Shane, Lori, and Carl.

“Daryl?  Have you seen the newspaper this morning?” asked Carol, as she walked into his office with it grasped tightly in her trembling hands.  She held it open to page three, placing it on his desk and pointing to a picture.  It was a wrecked car, burned beyond recognition.

_ Family killed in fiery crash on the Interstate _ , the article title read.

“Those are your clients…”

Daryl picked it up, reading through the details of the crash, until he came to the name.  Victims identified as Shane Walsh, Lori Grimes, and Carl Grimes.

“Shane?  This ain’t right.  Shane ain’t my client, he ain’t their family.  What of Rick?  Anything in here ‘bout him?”

“The report says he wasn’t in the car.  The construction crew is due to start on their renovations next week…”

“Fuck, it ain’t happening now.  Call them off ‘til we know more….

“I’ll keep my eyes out for obituaries, you should probably at least attend the wake.”

“Why?”

“Why?  Daryl, honestly!  How many hours have you spent on the phone with Lori?  Emailing her back and forth, redoing the designs?  You may have spent more time with her these last few weeks than her own husband got to spend with her.  The least you can do is go pay your respects.”

“What are you getting all mad at me for?”

“I’m surprised at you.  For someone who I thought had a heart of gold, you can be really insensitive at times.”  She threw the rest of the newspapers on the desk and left the office slamming the door shut behind her.

Daryl stared after her, shaking his head.  Thinking she’s just a crazy woman, on the rag, hormones raging or something.  Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.  Carol had been involved in a car accident years ago on that very same stretch of road.  She was 8 months pregnant at the time.  She had lost her child, and her husband.  She’d also lost her ability to reproduce, her womb so destroyed that they had to perform a hysterectomy in order to save her life.  “God, I am such a dick,” he muttered to himself, sighing heavily.

He pulled the door open, peeking around it to find Carol swiping angrily at the tears that had spilled onto her face.  Daryl reached over to grab the tissue box on the filing cabinet, knelt down next to her, pulling a few tissues from the box.  He turned her chair toward him. “I am an insensitive prick.”

Carol whimpered, holding back a sob. Daryl reached up, wiping her tears away and putting another tissue in her hand.

He leaned up straight on his knees and put his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.  I wasn’t thinkin’.”

A few shaky breaths later, Carol pulled away and blew her nose.  “I’m sorry, all these years and…”

“Hey, no excuses.  It’s alright, I’m the one that fucked up.”

“It’s just… I know what Rick’s feeling, and…”  She grimaced out a smile.  “I just need a few minutes to pull myself together.”

Daryl kissed her on the top of the head, “You need anything, just holler.  Take the day if you need to, I was planning on going hunting this afternoon.  No clients today.”

She nodded, sniffling.  “Maybe I’ll take the laptop, do a few things from home?”

“That’d be fine, don’t worry none about it.”

“Thank you,” she began clearing off her desk, packing up the few things she might need and dropping them into the computer bag.  She paused before pulling the strap over her shoulder.  “It would… It would mean the world to me, if you would go with me to the wake?  The funeral is more for family, but… the two of us, a show of solidarity.  It’s a nice touch, I think.”

Daryl nodded, running his hand up and down her back soothingly.  “That’s a fine idea.”

 

* * *

 

A week later, Daryl and Carol stood in line outside the funeral home.  There were easily fifty to sixty people ahead of them, and just as many behind them waiting to pay their respects.  Both Lori and Rick had been heavily involved in the community, and the loss of the family hit particularly hard for all the families with school aged children. It was well over an hour before they made it inside.  Daryl watched Rick as he nodded and shook hands with each person as they made their way through.  Very few he was able to look in the eye.  Instead, his eyes would trail back to the one casket in the room, and glaze over with tears.  He kept the conversations simple thanking those that offered their condolences, and shuffling them down the line.

“Just the one?” Daryl asked Carol, gesturing toward the casket.

“Yes,” she grimaced. “There wasn’t much left, car fire and all.  They’re burying mother and son together.”  

It wasn’t much longer until they stood before Rick.  His blue eyes muted grey, lids red rimmed.  “Thank you so much for coming,” he said limply, as he shook both their hands.  “I don’t think… I don’t think I’ll be needing your services.  Or that nursery...  But thank you for making Lori’s last days so…” he sniffed hard, pressing his hand to his mouth collecting himself.  “Thank you for giving her such hope.  We had been having problems, and she was starting to come ‘round again, you know?  But… turns out it was all a lie, you see.  She was pregnant.  Baby wasn’t mine.”  His voice wavered as his glassy wet eyes bore into Carol and Daryl.  “Baby wasn’t  _ MINE _ .” His voice forceful as his fist pounded his chest.  

Carol looked to Daryl quickly and back to Rick, taking a step back.  “I think we should go,”

“It wasn’t mine!” Rick hissed, as he reached forward fisting Daryl’s shirt in his hands.  

“It wasn’t yours, I understand Rick,” Daryl kept his voice steady and his eyes on Rick.  He raised his hands slowly, placing them gently over Rick’s hands.  “What am I supposed to do now, Daryl?  What am I supposed to do?  The house is empty now.  Empty!”  His breath hitched in his throat, a tear dripped down his cheek catching his attention enough to knock him back into reality.  “I’m sorry,” he gasped, unclenching his hands from Daryl’s shirt.  “I’m sorry….”

“Rick?  It’s okay, man.”  He kept his hands on Rick’s as they lowered, grasping them firmly in his hands, he bent slightly to recapture Rick’s averted eyes.  “You need to take a break or something? Want me to get you a glass of water?  I’m sure these fine folks waiting to pay their respects will understand.”

Rick let go of Daryl entirely, “No, no. I’m fine, I’m good.”  Carol handed him a tissue and he mopped up his face and blew his nose.  “I’ll keep going.  Have to keep going….” his voice trailing off again.

“Alright then, I’ll check in with you in a couple of weeks.  You need something sooner, just call.  Ain’t talking just business, you need something, you got my number.”  He pulled a business card from his pocket, along with a pen, and wrote on the back.  “This here’s my cell.  You need a breather, call me.  We can grab a beer, go shoot some stuff, fishing, I dunno.  Whatever.”  He tucked it into Rick’s jacket pocket. 

“Okay, thanks…”

“See you around, take care buddy.”  Carol and Daryl stepped away, leaving Rick standing shoulders hunched, as the next person came over to share their condolences.

Outside in the parking lot, Daryl doubled over, hands on his knees taking a few deep breaths for straightening back up and rubbing his hands over his face.  He let out a heavy sigh as he unlocked the doors to his truck, and helped Carol up into her seat.  “You look troubled.”

“Nah, just…. Funeral homes and shit.  Weird me out.  Poor guy, the spark in his eye.  It’s gone.”

“Well that was mighty kind of you to make that offer to him.  You surprise me sometimes.”

“Surprise myself sometimes too.  I don’t know, just something ‘bout that guy.  There weren’t nobody else standing up there with him.  Like he ain’t no family at all left.  Just him?  Cain’t imagine…”

Daryl thought of Rick that night, and every night after that.  He waited for his cell phone to ring, but it never did.  Rick never called the office, and Carol assigned the construction crew off to other jobs.  Daryl remained haunted by those tired blue grey eyes, longing to see the spark he had seen that first day that he and Lori had met with him in the office, as he had stared adoringly at his wife.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place months after the tragic accident.

Daryl was on his way home after another long day at the office.  Coming up on a wreck, he slowed down.  As he drove by, he saw Rick with a poor EMT’s help being refused and brusquely pushed away.  It’s been more than several months since he last saw Rick, at the wake for Lori.  But he hadn’t forgotten the way the man’s eyes had crinkled at the edges when he smiled.  Or the exasperated roll of his eyes when Lori said something ridiculous or requested the impossible during that first meeting.  Daryl wanted someone to look at him like that some day.

Daryl pulled over, and hopped out of the truck eager to find out what was going on.  He traded remarks with a firefighter sweeping broken glass from the scene, fist bumping his comrade and walked up to the ambulance.  

“I told you I’m fine,” Rick practically growled.

“Sir, you need to be checked out.  Please let us take you to the hospital,” the paramedic insisted.

“I’m refusing medical treatment, now let me go!”

“You really ought to listen to the medic…” Daryl finally spoke up.

Muted grey blue eyes look up at the voice, Daryl adjusted his sunglasses on the top of his head.  “They ain’t trying to be difficult, you what… rolled your car?  Even buckled that’s some crazy shit.  Best get checked out.”

“I think that’s the most amount of words you’ve spoken to me, ever.”

Dary raised an eyebrow, “I don’t use words if they ain’t important.”

Rick looked away, and slapped the hand of the medic trying to get a blood pressure reading.

“What if I bring you in?  Hm?” Daryl asked, turning to medic “Where you taking him?  Radio ahead and let them know I’ll bring him in to get checked out.”

“You family?”

“Nah.”

“Really shouldn’t release him to anyone but family…”

“He ain’t got none, killed in a wreck few months back,” Daryl responded, looking at Rick.

“Oh….”

“I’ll clear it with the chief, a’right?  Used to work the FD, I know him.  Promise, I won’t haul this guy off without some supervisory permission.”

The medic nodded assent and took a step back from Rick.

Rick watched as Daryl had an exchange with the fire chief, Morgan Jones.  Hand gestures, smiles, Daryl shook his hand and pat him on the back as he turned to walk away.

“Come on, man.  Let’s see what the good doc can do about a lack of common sense.”

“Excuse me?” Rick protested.

“You need medical attention.  You’re bleeding from that head wound, and yer head’s basically been run through a tumbler with that roll.  I’m taking you in.  Then I’ll bring you home after, alright?  Don’t be a dick, pay it forward to someone else later.”

Rick looked longingly away up the road, his voice nearly a whisper as he muttered, “I don’t wanna go home.  It’s empty.  Memories…”

“Then I’ll take you some place else.  Whatever.  Come on man, hop to.”

Daryl delivered Rick to the local ER where he was stitched up and diagnosed with a concussion, given a prescription for some painkillers and told to stay under the watchful eye of friends or family.  Rick grumbled to himself as he hopped off the gurney, gathering his jacket and putting his shoes back on.  

“You got somebody that can stay with you for a couple days?” asked Daryl as they walked out to the truck.

Rick shook his head.  “My family is dead.  My best friend is dead.  Since they all died, I’ve driven everyone else away.  Can’t stand the company, the prying eyes, the never ending questions…”

Daryl sighed, “Well, doc said you can’t be alone.  You’re welcome to come stay at my place.  I live with my mother.  Don’t laugh. I live in the main house, she lives in the carriage house, but there’s plenty of room.”

“Whatever man, beats being in an empty house filled with ghosts…”

 

* * *

 

Daryl drove Rick back to his home, up the long winding driveway to a sizeable house on a hill.  To the south was a small orchard that contained Peach, Pecan, and Apple trees.  The property was surrounded by woods, with the house at the far end backing the trees.  The lawn around the house was well manicured, but the fields surrounding were allowed to grow tall, with the current growth being nearly waist high and overdue for haying.  Rick closed his eyes taking in the sweet scent of the drying grass and the fruit trees beyond.  Daryl pulled up close to the house, a large brick home with tall white columns and a porch that ran the entire length of the home.  The driveway itself looped around in front connecting to a parking area over by an old barn and smaller brick outbuilding which appeared to be a near replica of the larger home.  The windows in the home were tall, running nearly floor to ceiling.  Daryl led the way up the staircase, and through the set of double doors.  Beautiful mahogany doors with intricate wood medallion carvings on the trim that surrounded them.

It was after dark already, but Rick could tell the home was a sight to behold in the daylight.  Daryl led him inside, and gave him a quick tour of the downstairs.  “Help yourself to whatever, kitchen is well stocked.” He then led him up the grand staircase to the second floor.  “This is you.  I’ll be two doors down if you need anything.  Ain’t goin’ in until late tomorrow, so if you need a ride anywhere, don’t feel like you gotta get up early or anythin’.”  

Rick nodded, “I don’t sleep anymore, but thanks man…” and then disappeared into the room closing the door behind him.

He heard Daryl’s footsteps receding as he leaned back against the closed door.  Groping for a light switch, he flipped it on.  He was pleasantly surprised to see a rather decadent guest bedroom.  Elegant drapes and wooden blinds at the windows, an ornate antique bureau with a large mirror hanging on the wall over it, and a large four poster bed with the quilt and sheets already turned down for him.  On the bed lay a clean robe, and a pair of pajamas.  Through a doorway came a soft glow, Rick followed it into an en suite bathroom.  Plush towels on the double sink, and enough toiletries that he would not need to worry about body odor or morning breath the following morning.  He did unfortunately catch sight of himself in the mirror, and he barely recognized the man he saw.  A five day old beard was overtaking his face.  His hair hadn’t been properly trimmed in months.  Dark circles under his eyes, and hard lines graced his face.  He had a bruise forming on his chest where the seat belt had held him in when the car rolled over, a gash over his eyebrow that had been stitched closed, and a variety of cuts, scrapes, and bruises from the tumble and broken glass.  He didn’t like what he saw, but at the same time he barely cared.  

He pulled off his clothes, and took a quick shower, putting on the comfortable cotton pajamas and sinking into the plush mattress, plumping the pillows behind his head.  There was a remote control on the bedside table, he picked it up and looked it over.  It appeared to be a TV remote, yet there was none around that he saw.  So he pushed the “on” button to see what would happen.  A painting on the wall extended out into the room and flipped over, revealing a television on the backside.   _ That’s something I would have wanted in my office _ , he thought to himself.  But he barely went to work anymore, so it seemed trivial and foolish now. He scrolled through the channels, finally settling on a documentary on the nature channel. 

There came a soft knock on the door, and it opened a few inches.  “Rick?” came Daryl’s soft voice, “You up?”

“Yeah, man.  Everything okay?”

“Was just checkin’ in on ya.  Feelin’ alright?  Need anythin’?”

“S’all good man.”

“Alright, just… leave your stuff out, someone will collect your clothes and wash ‘em, they’ll be clean for ya in the mornin.”

“You got staff?” Rick asked, a bit shocked.  Daryl sighed, and stepped further into the room.  “A few.  I take in veterans and homeless folks, let ‘em live here, work here, earn an income and get work experience.  Help ‘em get back on their feet. I called ahead, they know yer here.”

“Oh, wow…”

“I do full background checks and shit, most of ‘em work the fields.  The ones in the house are hand picked. They can be trusted.”

Rick nodded, pulling the quilt up, suddenly feeling very small in the large bed.

“You got yer cell?”

“Mm-hmm, why?”

“Ya need anything, just text me.  Gimme yer phone, I’ll punch in the numbers.”  

Rick handed his phone over to Daryl, and a moment later he handed it back with his number now saved in it.

“Why you doin’ this?” Rick asked.

Daryl shrugged, “Ain’t no reason not to.  Figure… you need a leg up as much as anybody.  Maybe you just need a break from the world for a bit, is all.  If I was in your situation, I wouldn’t want to be alone.  That’s… that’s a dangerous place to be.”

“Hmm,” Rick sank down in the pillows, and turned his eyes back toward the tv.

“I’ll leave you to yer show.  Ain’t nobody else gonna bug ya tonight, see ya in the mornin’.”

Daryl closed the door gently, and Rick was left with the glow of the television to keep him company.  He thought awhile about what Daryl said, and he was right.  Being alone these past several months after losing his entire family was probably the worst thing he could have done.  He’d given up on his sessions with Dr. Greene.  He’d given up on going to work, but thanks to the blessing of an outstanding staff and office manager, they kept the practice running without him.

He would have to call them in the morning, he thought to himself.  Certainly by then they would have heard about his accident and would be concerned.  Better to give them a call himself than have to deal with a dozen or so voicemails if he chose to ignore it altogether.  With a sigh, he pushed the button on the remote, and the tv flipped back over and tucked itself back against the wall.  Pulling the sheets up to his chin, he rolled over on this side, and attempted to get some sleep.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter to write. I've kept Mr. and Mrs. Dixon alive and well (sort of?) I hope you enjoy Mrs. Dixon, she's a bit of a nutter. Meddling in her son's life and oversharing personal information is her forte. Her appearance is based off of Debbie Harry's character in Six Ways to Sunday.

Rick woke early after a fitful night of sleep.  The bed was soft and comfortable, the room an appropriate temperature, and the blinds were drawn so the morning sun did not shine directly in his face.  But still, he lay there in the grey dawn light, waiting for sleep that would never come.  Pushing back the covers, he sat up and visited the bathroom.  During the night, his clothes had been laundered and left out for him, so he changed and decided to head downstairs and visited the kitchen.  Halfway down the stairs he was greeted with the scent of biscuits, sausage gravy, bacon and eggs, and coffee.  His steps slowed as he inhaled the comforting scents deeply.  It had been ages since he last had a home cooked breakfast.  Lori tried, but she always managed to burn the bacon, undercook the pancakes, or get egg shells in the eggs. 

He padded into the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of a bedheaded Daryl, seated at the long farm style table.  He was reading the morning paper, reading glasses set lightly on the bridge of his nose, mug of coffee by his side with tendrils of steam rising into the air.  He had on a very worn black t-shirt, and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

“Help yourself,” he gestured to the food on the counter without looking up from his paper.  His voice was particularly deep and raspy, evidence of his own tiredness.  Rick nodded, pouring himself the coffee, and standing by the french doors looking out into the land behind the house.  The woods broke into a wide path that led down to a lake.  There was a large stone patio by the lake, a hammock, and outdoor cooking area.  The sun was beginning to rise, reflecting in near mirror like perfection on the water, a beautiful array of golden orange and pink.  There was a long dock that went out over the water, Rick thought about how nice it must be to sit down by the water, enjoy the peace and quiet and feel the breeze off the lake.

“Head on down if you want, there’s lounge chairs down there.  The food’ll keep,” Daryl mentioned, as if he had read Rick’s mind.

“Hmm,” Rick hummed, seriously considering it.

“I’ll join ya in a few, gonna refill,” he set down his newspaper and glasses, and stood up, stretching his arms up and over his head.  Groaning as joints popped, grabbing his mug and padding over to the coffee maker to refill it.

Rick topped off his mug, and stepped out the french doors and onto the dewy manicured grass.  He had no shoes on, but he welcomed the feel of the thick grass beneath his feet, drawing energy from the earth and warmth from the rising sun as he walked down the hill toward the water.  There were a couple hammocks and a few lounge chairs about, and he chose the hammock closest to the water, sitting down on it, and rocking it back and forth gently.  Daryl followed moments later, pulling over an Adirondack chair and easing into its smooth curved back.

The water was like glass.  Two herons were at the water’s edge amongst the marshy grass, and ducks took flight over the water, breaking the stillness.  Rick closed his eyes and breathed slow and deep, relishing the quiet nature sounds that surrounded him.  He could feel the sun’s rays on his skin, a subtle tingle letting him know that he was still here, still alive.  And it brought him back to that moment when Carl was so young, a newborn babe in his momma’s arms in the nursery, the early morning sun shining down on his hair as he nursed sleepily at her breast.  The golden rays had cast his head in an ethereal light, enveloping them both.  And Lori’s tired smile, despite her exhaustion, had been so at peace when she looked up at him standing there in the doorway.

When he opened his eyes, he realized his cheeks were wet with tears, which he hastily wiped away with his free hand.  Daryl took no notice, or at least gave no indication if he had or not.  He simply took a sip of his coffee, and set it back on the arm of the chair, putting his arms behind his head and relaxing.

“I think…” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat, taking a moment.  “I think I want to move forward with those changes… the ones you and my wife had talked about.”

Daryl turned to look at Rick, “You sure?”

Rick shook his head, “No.  Not in the least.  But just… seems like the right thing to do, I guess.”

Daryl nodded thoughtfully, “Pay homage to your wife, would be a nice gesture in remembrance, and to live in a home with her touch.”

Rick shook his head again, “Oh, I won’t live there again.  I can’t go back there.”

Daryl frowned, sitting forward in his seat, “Why not?”

Rick raised his eyebrows, “Do I really have to explain myself?  The place… it feels like a damn tomb.”

Daryl raised a hand, “Not what I meant, I’m sorry.  You want it done up to your wife’s specifications, I’ll make it happen.  But what about you?  Where ya gonna go?  Yer welcome to stay here, but I imagine you’ll be wantin’ your own place?”

Rick shrugged, “Hadn’t gotten that far.  I’ve got clients with rental properties, I can put some feelers out.  I’ll go back to get a few things, but… I can’t live there.  That was all Lori and Carl, and Shane.  It wasn’t a perfect bubble, it wasn’t always a happy place, but… it was my world.  And now…”  He shook his head, gazing out over the placid water taking a trembling breath.

“You’ll get yer bearings back.  It just takes time, is all.”

“Hmm,” Rick sunk a little lower in his seat, running his fingers round the rim of the mug.  “Hope so, hate feelin’ like this…”

Daryl looked back at Rick, “You got somebody to talk to ‘bout it?  I mean, I’m here to listen and all, but I’m talkin’ like a professional, or something.”

Rick grimaced, “I did.  But… I gave up on that after the accident.”

“Why not go back?” Daryl asked, sitting forward in his seat.  “They can give you a different perspective, help you work through things.”

“He is a friend.  Or was.  I don’t know anymore… I haven’t really talked to anyone except a few work people since it all went down.”

“Want me to make the call for you?  Ain’t got a problem with that.  First step is the hardest, man.  But it’s worth it cuz you’ll be feelin’ more like you in the end.”

Rick cocked his head slightly looking at Daryl, wondering if the man was speaking from his own personal experience.  He was curious, but those were questions for another day.  He needed to get himself back on even ground before he could consider anything other than acquaintanceship with another human being at this point.  

“I’ll think about it, that’s all I can handle for right now,” Rick answered honestly.  The sound of his thick swallow was enough to let Daryl know to drop the subject, for now.

Daryl stood up, grabbing his mug in one hand, and giving Rick’s shoulder a squeeze with the other.  “I’m going to see about breakfast.  You come up when you’re ready.  If I don’t see you in a few hours, I’ll bring some grub to you.”

Rick nodded, and patted Daryl’s hand before letting his hand fall back into his lap.  He let his toes curl into the plush grass beneath his feet, and he leaned back on the hammock letting the sun shine down upon his face again, letting the healing rays warm him to the depths of his broken heart.

 

* * *

 

Rick never made it back for breakfast, but around noon time his head was clanging with the makings of a fierce headache and he knew he needed to get back inside and some food in his belly before it turned into a full blown migraine.  His body ached for some pain relief, and his stomach growled reminding him of his missed meal.  When he walked through the french doors into the kitchen area, he was greeted with the sight of a now dressed Daryl and a smart looking woman by his side preparing sandwiches and lemonade.

“Rick!  Meet my mother, the Annabelle Marie Dixon.  Mom, this is my friend Rick.  He’ll be staying here while he recuperates from his accident.”

“Mrs. Dixon, it’s a pleasure,” Rick held out his hand, gently clasping Annabelle’s hand.

“My, my, Rick… what handsome blue eyes you have!  A few shades lighter than Daryl’s, I’d say, but just as lovely!”

Rick smiled warmly and nodded his thanks at her compliment.  

“And please, call me Annabelle.”

The trio sat at the table eating their sandwiches and making small talk.  Annabelle asking about Rick’s family, where his parents were from, had they been in the south long?  Rick listened intently as she gave a run down of her own family and the tobacco plantation she inherited that was in her family for nearly two centuries.  Inevitably, Daryl’s cell phone rang and he excused himself from the room leaving Annabelle alone with Rick.  The silence was uneasy, and Rick could sense Annabelle stewing over something, getting her thoughts in line before sharing what she had on her mind.

“I’m… I’m going against my better judgment, Rick.  I need to share something with you, because first and foremost, I am a mother.  And my children are always my top priority, no matter their age.

“Okay,” Rick nodded, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin and setting it beside his plate.  “I’m all ears.”

“I’ve seen the way Daryl looks at you.  The way his face lights up when he talks about you.  He’s mentioned you several times over the last few months…  I know how terribly cliche this is going to sound, but it’s true.  I’m going to be horribly maternal and ask… no, beg of you, to please not lead him on.  Please don’t break his heart.”

“Break his heart?  Why would I ever do that?  What do you mean? We’re… we’re barely friends at most, that’s it… I-”

“Daryl has only been in love once before.  Soul mates, he claimed.  It was a passionate affair, with talks of marriage, and adopting a family.  They had even gone so far as to meet with children in foster care that were available for adoption.  He bonded with one particular child.  It was all in the works, things were moving forward, and then…”

“What?  What happened?”

“Daryl found out it was all a ruse.  The man he so loved? He was already married to a woman.   Apparently they already had the paperwork in the process for adopting that child.  That man, if you can even call him a man, stole Daryl’s future right out from under him.  Daryl never talks about it.  When a mother comes home to find her son on his hands and knees on the floor, sobbing so hard he’s nearly vomiting… If I’d only known how to load a gun.  

“He didn’t speak for days afterward.  Catatonic almost, I was afraid I’d have to get him committed.  His heart is not whole.  I can tell that he cares about you.  I just… I just ask that you always be honest with him.  He can take the truth, if you don’t feel the same way, but you must be honest. Any deception would just kill him.

“He’s probably going to kill me for telling you all this.  He’s always been very private, guarded.  You know?  But he’s got a heart of gold, what’s left of it anyway.  He’s very selective about whom he allows into his life too.

“I’m not telling you these things to be cruel or hurtful, nor do I wish to diminish your own experiences.  I don’t know what it is to lose a spouse you love, or a child.  My husband, there was a time I loved him.  But our marriage?  There wasn’t a choice.  I had gone out on a few dates, had a few drinks, made some poor choices.  It was the sixties, and in the south you didn’t shirk from your responsibilities.  So I married Mr. Dixon, and we had Merle.  And Daryl wasn’t planned either, to say it as delicately as possible.  Sometimes I wonder if we’re just simply doomed, as a family.  After my own troubles, and then Daryl’s… well, I hope that you may be the one to break the cycle.”

“I don’t even know what this is, with Daryl,” Rick responded honestly.  “I barely know him. I… I can’t even consider anything beyond aquaintanceship right now. I… Why, why are you even telling me all this, I barely know the guy.”

“Have you ever been with a man, Rick?  I’m not talking some drunken fraternity scandal, but one where you’ve made love with a man by choice?”

Blushing, “Well, yes.  But, how is this even any of your business?  I mean no disrespect, but I don’t appreciate-”

“Then tread lightly, my dear.  Make good choices.  And be honest with him.”

Rick frowned at the woman, she was like a dog with a bone.  He had no idea why she chose to over-share in such grandiose manner on the personal matters as both her and Daryl’s private lives.  With his own issues being more than he could handle at the moment, he simply chose to accept the crazed ranting. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And I am sorry for your losses.  I am.  Unimaginable,” she tutted as she got up from the table, taking her plate with her.

Annabelle left the room after that, retreating to the garden with her glass of sweet tea.  Rick slumped in his position on the chair, reeling from her admissions and the pained remembrance of his loss.  He failed to hear the soft footsteps of Daryl reentering the room.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hmm, yeah.”  Rick sniffed, and ran a hand through his hair smoothing the curls.

“Mother grab your ear?”

“In a manner of speaking…”

“Lemme guess, a lecture of sorts.”

“You could say that…”

“She’s a tough old broad, but she means well.  What she say?”

“Oh,” Rick gestured flatly into the air, “Just don’t be a dick, type… stuff.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I… got a bit of a headache, can we talk about this later?”

“Want me take you home?”

“Don’t want to go home, but can’t stay here…” Rick grimaced as he looked out the doors to Annabelle seated outside.  That was clue enough to Daryl what had happened, and he steared Rick away from whatever Annabelle had done to rub him wrong.

“Let me be clear, this is my house.  She just lives here.  Well, the carriage house.  You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.  But you’ll have to get to the shop sometime to settle up on your car.  Would you feel more comfortable if you had a vehicle, to come and go as you please?”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hm.”


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl arranged for a rental car to come collect Rick, allowing him to leave the property and tend to what he later found out was a totaled vehicle.  Rick was in no mood to deal with the insurance company so he called his agent and let him handle things, and he would get around to purchasing a new vehicle when he felt up for social engagement.

While he was out, he decided to stop by the office. He had hated going there after the funeral.  The sad eyes, the looks of pity and concern did nothing to assuage his raw nerves.  He would be a sight in his given state, cuts and bruises and all. Tara greeted him from the reception desk with a wide smile and a fist bump.

“Heard about the accident from Denise,” she said, as she handed over a stack of messages for Rick.  “The EMT you refused was her brother Dennis, first night in the job too!” She chuckled, patting Rick on the arm, “I'm glad you're okay.”

“Cuts and bruises, could have been worse.” He winced at his choice of words. Could have been worse, didn't he know that. Lori and Carl experienced worse…

Tara gave his back a gentle squeeze, “Hershel stopped by last week. He didn't leave a message, but he was asking ‘bout you.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, “I'm long overdue on calling him. On calling a lot of people, I…”

“Hey, you don't gotta explain or justify it to me.  Folks understand-”

Rick cocked his head to the side, giving her a sardonic look, “I've neglected a lot, tragedy or not… that was shitty of me. I'm gonna try to do better. I can at least try, right?”

“There’s no one way to grieve,” she took his hand in her own and squeezed it.  “You know I’m here, whatever you need.  Work, or otherwise.  We’ve been holding down the fort for ya as best we can.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Can we… can we call you sometime?  I mean, major stuff that demanded attention we always have.  But day to day stuff, you up for that?  Emails, text, whatever?”

“Yes, just… give me a few days.  I’m trying to figure things out.  Set a new path or something.  I’m staying with a friend-”

“Good, human interaction helps.”

Rick chuffed, “Well, that is true.  I just wasn’t quite ready for it, but…”

“It’s good, right?”

“I think so, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s your friend?” asked Annabelle, seating herself on the chaise lounge out on the patio and shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up at Daryl.

“Out,” he tucked the pencil behind his ear, and took the board over to the saw, cutting it precisely.

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” she asked, leaning back and making herself comfortable.

“What are you even on about, mother?” Daryl grumbled, moving to the next board, measuring it and marking it with his pencil and moving back to the saw.

“This… whatever  you have with Rick, of course.”  She took a sip of her tea, her eyes following Daryl as he continued his work.

“He’s a friend,” he brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead with the backside of his hand, stopping long enough to look his mother in the eye.

“Mm-hm.  And have you talked to Dr. Dufresne about him?”  Daryl paused at her question.  He had been seeing Dr. Dufresne for some time now, a wonderful psychotherapist turned friend that he still saw on occasion for therapeutic purposes.  

“What does she have to do with any of this?”

Annabelle sighed and gave her son that irritated maternal look, the one that said she knew he was being difficult on purpose but was going to press him on the issue anyway.  “Daryl, darling… I just want you to be happy, that’s all any mother wants for her child.”

“And your constant and incessant pursuit of it is only serving to piss me off more,” Daryl growled.

“Language,” she scolded.

“Lang-, no.  Not today.  I’m not doing this.  I’m not discussing this with you.  Who I choose to be friends with, or not be friends with is none of your concern.”  He stepped over to the table taking his bottle of water and chugging it down fast.

“You’re my child-”

“Yes, and I’ll always BE your child.  But for god’s sake, mother.  I’ve been on this earth for four decades.  I think I have enough life experience to know when I’m making bad choices.  Rick?  He’s not a bad choice.  He’s a man who just lost everything precious to him.”

“And you can relate? Is that why you’ve befriended him?”

Annabelle’s words stung, as if that were the only reason that he might be spending his time with Rick, over just the commonality of grief and loss. “Yes.  I can.  Maybe things would have been easier for me if I had a friend back then.”

“You did, you turned them all away.”

“Because none of them could understand.  None of them knew-,” he sighed, his shoulders falling with the weight of the words.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, dear.”

“Well, what about you?  Huh?  What about your friends?  What about going out and joining the dating world yourself.”

“I’m still married!” she scoffed, giving him an incredulous look, and taking another sip of her tea.

“And Dad is laid up in a convalescent home with alzheimer’s and dementia.  He ain’t ever comin’ home.  You’re free now, go take advantage of it,” he turned his back to her, measuring out yet another board to be cut.

“Daryl, I made a vow to him all those years ago.”  Dary spun on his heel, getting down in his mother’s face to ensure she didn’t miss a word of what he had to say.

“And how many times did he go off on some bender, with another woman?  How many times did he beat you and verbally abuse you?  The excuses?  That’s all over, has been for a while now.  Vows don’t mean shit when the man don’t even recognize you no more.  Why don’t you go out and find your own happiness.”

“My how the tables have turned…”  She brushed the hair back from her face, fingers needlessly smoothing her perfectly sculpted hair.

“Go down to the hardware.  Mr. Horvath has had a hard on for you for years-”  

“Daryl Dixon!”

“What?  Momma it’s true!  Maggie still brings it up damn near every time I see her.”  He grabbed up the bundle of cut wood and stepped over to the decaying porch steps.  With the claw of his hammer, he yanked at the rotting wood, pulling out the broken boards.

“Why didn’t you date her?  She was such a nice girl.”

“She still is a nice girl, but she’s married now.  With kids.”

“To that nice Chinese boy?”

“He’s Korean!”  Daryl rubbed his eyes, shaking his head that he was yet again having this conversation with his mother.  “And anyway, you know boobs don’t do nothing for me.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes at him, “Well, what would a woman like myself be doing down in a hardware store anyhow?  Mr. Horvath would know something’s up.”

“Oh get off your high horse, you plantation princess.  Don’t matter how rich you are, or where you come from.  Ain’t nobody ever done without need for a plunger, lightbulbs, or hell a hook to hang your fuckin’ hat on.  Honest to God, woman.  You give me such attitude about my so called happiness.  Go out and get some of your own and leave me the fuck alone.” He swung his hammer at the wood, harder than necessary, clearing away the debris.

“Stop acting like a pubescent teenager.”

“Then stop meddling in my life!  I love you dearly, momma.  You know I do, but for fuck’s sake….  You’re infuriating.  I’m going out.  Gonna get me some rabbits.”  He tossed down the hammer and stepped over the pile of boards, hopping back up on the deck and moving swiftly toward the open french doors.

“All that boarding school education, and you slip back into southern… ‘charm’ so easily,” Annabelle teased, taking another sip from her tea.

“Comes out most when I’m pissed, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Dear….”

“Just stop.  I’ll be back later.  No more questioning my life and my choices until you done gone down to the hardware and asked Mr. Horvath over for lunch.  Don’t serve him no cucumber sandwiches, real men don’t eat that shit.”

“I just want to see you smile again…” she called out as he closed the door behind him, disappearing into the house to go find his crossbow and head out into the stillness of the woods.   
  


  
  



	7. Chapter 7

When Rick arrived back at Daryl’s, he walked in on the man in the kitchen.  Shirtless, jeans set low on his hips, he was bent over the carcass of god-only-knows-what, a smear of blood on his chin, and a pile of fur to his left.  The sight stopping Rick in his tracks.  Daryl looked up from his work, skinning one of three animals on the large counter.

“Uh… I brought beer?” Rick held up a six-pack of bottles in his hand.  Daryl pointed with his knived hand to the refrigerator. 

“You know you probably shouldn’t be drinkin’ that if yer still on pain killers,” Daryl reminded him, turning his focus back to the carcass on the counter.

“Sure, Mom.  What are you doing?” Rick asked stepping up beside Daryl, looking curiously down at the array of knives laid out.

“Seems Mother was on a roll today, she done pissed me off so I went hunting.  Got us some rabbits.  She hates when I butcher in the house, was the quickest way to get her gone.”

“It is a bit… gross.”

“Gross? Pffft.  Wait’ll you taste my rabbit stew. It’s what’s fer dinner.”

“Oh.”  Rick was both impressed and unimpressed.  He enjoyed animals and wildlife from afar.  He’d been known to have a venison steak or two before, but the process between running free and sitting butchered in the refrigerator was one he would have rather done without.

“My cookin’ ain’t ever killed a person.”

“You cook?”

“No regrets, my mom shipping me off to boarding school had its definite bonuses.  I can sew ya an apron, cook you a coq au vin, and bake up a souffle for dessert faster than you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“What the hell kind of boarding school teaches you to kill animals and process their meat?”

Daryl set down the knife and wiped the blood from his knife. “Summer camp? How’s your head feeling?” 

Rick settled into a nearby chair, “It’s there.”

“You wanna go rest a bit?  I can let you know when dinner is ready.”

Rick looked at his watch. It was late afternoon but a nap did sound like a good idea.  And if he didn't sleep, he certainly had plenty of things to think about.  His life had been going nowhere for months now.  It wasn’t healthy, he knew this, and things needed to change.

He turned, looking over his shoulder as he walked out of the room, “Thank you, if I haven’t already said it.”  Daryl looked back at him, “You’re welcome,” and moved toward the stove to begin preparing the stew.  The movement gave Rick a full view of his back, thick scars running across the flesh, and an angel and demon in a tangle.   _ We’ve all got scars to bear, _ he thought to himself.   _ Some more physical but no less painful. _ Someday he would ask about those scars, but not today.  He needed to work on himself first.

*****************************

Daryl’s stew turned out to be delicious. The two men took their bowls out to the firepit in the courtyard staying out long after dark.  Daryl pulled out his phone at one point, a few taps on the screen and all the lights in the house went dark.  He pointed to the sky, and Rick looked up.  It took his eyes several moments to adjust to the darkness, but eventually the stars revealed themselves.  Even the light of the low fire did nothing to dim them, and Rick’s eyes wandered amongst the constellations, wondering how many eons of people had looked up at these same stars.  Daryl disappeared inside, and returned a few moments later, beer and bottled water in hand.

Rick nodded his thanks, and leaned back in his chair taking a long sip of the cool lager.  This place, Daryl’s home, he felt more like himself here in the last two days than he had since he lost Lori and Carl.  And Shane.  Shane had been family, a brother.  He had never expected that Shane would ever betray him in such a manner, and to have gotten his wife pregnant… Shane gave her what he couldn’t.  For that, he felt like a failure.  But not having his friend here made the days more difficult.  He still found himself reaching for his phone, to call Shane with some question, or even to text Lori about dinner or some innocuous question.  How was he expected to move on from these tragedies without friends?  He had been trying for months, and failing miserably.  But these two days with Daryl made him truly wonder how much further along he would be if he had simply not given up so early on.  Maybe Daryl was right.  Maybe he would give Hershel a call in the morning.  What would it hurt?  Certainly it would hurt a lot if they chose to resume therapy, but Rick was tired of living like this.  The deep seated ache in his chest, he was ready to be free of.  The hurt would always be there, a man isn’t supposed to bury his wife and child so early in his lifetime.  But to live again?  He needed that.

“I hear them gears turnin’,” Daryl mused as he took a sip of his beer, stirring Rick from the depths of his thoughts.

“Hmm,” he agreed.  “I think it’s time.”  He turned his face toward Daryl, a subtle smile gracing his lips.  He watched the glow of the fire dance across Daryl’s features, the light casting his eyes in a blazing copper tone.  

“Forward momentum?” he asked, putting his bare feet up on the stone ring that circled the fire, warming his toes.

“Yeah… I think there’s hope for me yet.”

Daryl hummed in agreement. “There’s always hope.  Took me a fair while to realize that too.”

Rick wanted to ask what he meant by that, find out more about this mysterious man.  But not tonight.  The harmony of the night insects, the soft breeze, and the warm fire was soothing his soul, so he set his eyes above him and wondered which set of twinkling stars belonged to his family.

 

* * *

 

It was well after midnight before Rick retired to his room.  For the first time in quite awhile, he was feeling almost positive.  Having decided to move forward with the planned renovations on his home, it put his mind at ease.  After showering and drying off, he got into bed mentally preparing for the following day.  He was feeling brave enough to head back home and get a few of his things, several changes of clothes, and maybe he would contact a few of his clients with rental properties.  Daryl had been more than hospitable, but Rick felt the need to let the man have his space and privacy back.  It was high time he got back on his own two feet, and got back to reality.  He let the world stop turning when Lori and Carl died, and had allowed his heart to be filled with darkness at the betrayal of his wife and best friend.  It wasn’t healthy for him, physically or mentally, to be dwelling like this.  Betrayal or not, they wouldn’t want this for him.

Rick lay down on the bed pulling the sheets up, and closed his eyes.  The peace of mind allowing him to drift off to sleep.  But sleep was not easy, nor was it restful.  Rick was plagued with dreams.  Being cornered by Lori, spouting off about his workaholic nature, how he was never home to support her or Carl, even going so far as to say she would be better off as a single parent.  Shane was there too, that ugly sneer on his face when he was determined and there was an obstacle in his way.  That obstacle being Rick.  Shane wanted what Rick had, a wife and child, a family of his own.  The two ganged up on him, shouting at him, and he cowered in the corner, turning his face away from them whimpering and quietly begging them to stop.   _ Please… please! Why? Why are you doing this to me?  I wasn’t doing anything wrong! I was providing for you… I’ll change, I promise! I- _

“Rick?” Daryl’s sleep heavy voice and a firm grip on his shoulder roused him from the nightmare.  “Rick?  Y’alright?”

Rick jumped at the touch, throwing himself back against the headboard and kicking off the sheets, disoriented in half sleep.

“Rick?” Daryl asked again, his hands up in submission.  “Just a nightmare, that’s all…  Take a few deep breaths…”

“Wha... ?” Rick leaned against the headboard, pulling a pillow to his chest, clutching it tight as he took a few ragged breaths. “I’m okay, I’m fine…”

“You were callin’ out in yer sleep.  Heard ya from my room… Yer drenched, lemme get you a dry shirt at least.”  Rick looked down at his pajamas and back up at Daryl as he left the room in search of clothes.  He caught a glimpse of those thick scars that lay across Daryl’s broad back, once again.  His attention was diverted back to the wet clothes, and how they clung to his skin, now feeling cool and clammy with the sheet and blankets kicked off.  Sliding off the bed he peeled the top from his body, and tossed it into the bathroom sink.  Grabbing his dry boxers, he slid off the sweat damp ones and tossed those aside too.  The bed was large enough he could sleep on the other side, on Lori’s side,  and change the sheets in the morning.  A soft knock on the door, and Daryl poked his head in, holding an outstretched arm to Rick, clutching a worn faded black t-shirt.

“That’s… I’m sorry for waking you.”

Daryl sniffed in a heavy breath, “No bother, honest.  This is just an old shirt.  Worn out, soft.  Comfortable.  One of my favorites actually.  Just don’t lose it.”  His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and mild confusion.  “You okay to go back ta sleep or you need me to get ya some water? Or anythin’?”

“No, really…”

“Yer still shaking,” Daryl observed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  He pulled the throw blanket off the chair in the corner, wrapping it around his own bare shoulders, then sat down and put his feet up on the bed.  “Go ahead, hop back in bed.  Yer either shakin’ cuz yer cold, or cuz that dream still has it’s claws in ya.”  Dary curled his upper half so his head rested on the back of the chair.  He closed his eyes, and gestured to the bed.  “Go on, bed.”

So Rick climbed back into the bed bypassing the sweat dampened side which put him closest to Daryl.  Lying flat on his back, he pulled the sheets back up and stared at the ceiling, willing the trembling to stop.  _  It was just a stupid lame dream, you’re 40 goddamn years old, pull yourself together for goodness sake. _

“Them gears are turnin’ again, I can hear ‘em…” Daryl grumbled.

“It’s dumb.”

“Need me to get yer mind off it?”

“No…” Rick fingered the seam of the sheets, running his thumb across the smooth material. “Maybe?”

“I don’t do bedtime stories.”

“Oh, can I ask you somethin’ then?”

Daryl shifted in his seat so he was nearly on his side, his head resting against the arm of the plush chair so his face was in line with Rick’s.  “You can ask.  If I feel like answerin’, I will.”

“It’s none of my business.  But… those scars?”

Rick turned over onto his side, watching Daryl sit there silently.  For a moment he thought the man might have fallen back to sleep, as there was no response or recognition that he had even heard Rick.  But Rick sat still, and waited.  Letting his mind wander, noticing the little things about the room like the way the moonlight shone through the window.  The light highlighting his brow and shining across his nose, and down to the ragged hair of his chin.  Rick watched the blanket pulled tight across his chest slowly rise and fall with each breath.  And he jumped when Daryl finally spoke.

“Was my Dad… He’d run into some trouble.  Gamblin’ debts.  Was drinkin’ heavily.  Momma owns all this, her pop put it all in trusts so Dad could never touch the money ‘cept what he earned in his own paycheck.  Someone came to collect on a debt.  Dad offered them one of Pop’s machines.  Musta been in pretty deep cuz he walked him out to the barn and pulled the tarp off the disk plow, hooked it up ta the tractor and started drivin’ off.  I wasn’t maybe thirteen at the time, went out there hollerin’ at ‘im to stop.  He either couldn’t hear me or was too drunk to care, turned the tractor straight at me and stepped on the gas and ran me down.  I woke up in the hospital two days later.”

“How could he-”

“Do somethin’ like that?  Dad took to the drink, and he was a mean drunk.  Slapped us all around a fair amount.  Never remembered it the next day.  He was there to drive me home when I got discharged.”

“How could-”

“Momma was at home with a black eye.  He didn’t appreciate that I was gone, and less so when she told him why.”

“And you stuck around? After that?”

Daryl lifted his head up off the chair to glare at Rick, “It was the early 80’s, folks were allowed to slap their kids around.  Cops didn’t care, and if CPS got involved… Foster was worse.  We just avoided each other.”

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re doing an awful lot of unnecessary apologizin’ t’night,” Daryl muttered.  “I distract you from your troubles?”

“Yeah-”

“Alright then,” Daryl stood up from the chair, letting the throw blanket fall to the floor.  “See you in the mornin’.” 

Rick was surprised by Daryl’s abrupt departure, the way the man had been getting comfortable in the chair, he had thought he might stay.  Oddly enough, he was hoping for it.  He wasn’t sure quite how that made him feel.  Other than making him realize that maybe he did need people in his life.  Friends.  As he settled back down into the pillows, his thoughts drifted to Daryl’s childhood.  He sent a silent thank you to Annabelle for having the smarts to ship Daryl off to boarding school.  Despite the scars that graced that man’s back, being away from Mr. Dixon probably saved his life.  And where would Rick be right now if Daryl hadn’t been there?  Sitting at home.  Alone, and in the dark.  Possibly contemplating suicide.  The decision was made, Rick would call Hershel in the morning and beg him to take him back.  And if he didn’t, he wouldn’t get off the phone until he got the number of another reputable therapist.

 

* * *

 

Daryl wasn’t at breakfast the next morning.  Rick had gotten up with the sun, trimmed his beard and shaved to neaten his appearance, and showered.  He donned a comfortable outfit, determined to have a productive day, and stepped lightly down the stairs to the kitchen.  The coffee was fresh in the pot, and there was a tray of pastries set out with a note that a fruit salad could be found in the refrigerator, and that Rick could use any of the food or ingredients in the kitchen if this was not to his liking.  Rick frowned at the note, looking over at the table he saw the newspaper laid out, and Daryl’s reading glasses set down beside a near empty mug of black coffee.  He laid a finger against the ceramic and felt that it too was cold, Daryl had left awhile ago.  Looking down at his watch, it was still early.  Too early to call Hershel, but  not too early to head to the office and look up some contact information or check a real estate agency website for rentals.

Pulling into the parking lot of his office in the rental vehicle, he sat back and watched the various employees of the area businesses bustle in to work.   Some rushing with coffee in hand, others taking their time as they tied their ties or chatted on their cell phones.  He missed this, the flurry of activity that met with greeting the new day.  He reached for the door to get out when his cell phone rang.  The number oddly familiar, his brain in a fog as it came back to him.  The large steel structure building with all the glass, the wood panelled office, Raleigh Architectural Associates… He hadn’t seen that phone number in months, not since Lori.

“Um, ahem… ‘scuse me, hello?” He meekly answered the phone, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as his mind was assaulted with images of Lori smiling as she described what changes she wanted to Daryl, the way Daryl’s hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at his tablet concentrating on inputting the designs she requested, and how Carl’s face had lit up that afternoon when they told him he was getting a bigger bedroom and his very own bathroom.  And just like that, it was stolen from him.  By his best friend, of all people.

“Rick?  Hi, my name is Carol, I work with Daryl at Raleigh Architectural?  Daryl mentioned you wanted to go forward with the changes, and I’m calling you to get started on the logistics.”

Rick hung his head until his forehead hit the steering wheel, “Yes, it’s happening.  We hadn’t gotten into details, but just that I want it done.”

“We have a team ready to start construction next week.  Does that work for you?”

“That’s fine.  But what of the contents of the home?  I assume it needs to be emptied?”

“That would be ideal, but we would understand if-”

“How do I pack up a home I’ve lived in for a decade and a half? What am I supposed to do with Lori’s things?  Or Carl’s?  Set it on the curb? Throw it away?” He asked these questions aloud, his voice igniting in frustration.  “Shit, that’d be one hell of a tag sale.  Let the neighborhood just have at it then.”

“I suppose, if you need the help, sir… we could arrange to have things put into storage?”

Sir.  That caught Rick’s attention and promptly knocked him back a few notches.  “Oh God, Carol… how rude of me!  I said that out loud and I was only thinking it, I didn’t mean it like-  Shit.” He pounded his forehead against the steering wheel three times and took a deep breath.

“I apologize, Carol.  The house will be emptied by next week.  Please let me know what date they plan to start and if I need help or a service to move stuff, can I call you?”

“Absolutely,” Carol sounded relieved.  “You’re not alone in this, Rick.  Daryl and I will be with you every step of the way, we’re your contact for everything that goes down in the house.  If you have any questions at all, just ask.  Okay?”

“Thank you… Is he there?  Is Daryl in the office today?”

“Yes, did you want to speak with him?”

“No, no… I don’t want to be a bother.  Just tell him… tell him ‘thank you.’”

“Absolutely.  You’re sounding good, Rick.  Honestly.  Have a great day, and I’ll be in touch again once things start moving forward.”

Rick said his goodbyes and then dropped his cell phone into the cup holder, leaning back into the seat and raking his hands through his hair.  He groaned as his fingers tightened their grip on his hair, pulling it tight to the point of painful.  He knew this might happen, being assaulted by memories without provocation was bound to happen from time to time.  And it was amusing, cryptically so, how small things would awaken old memories.  Certain smells, a color of a piece of clothing on a young child, long brown tresses on a slim woman, the barking laugh of a dark haired man.  Oh how he longed for the days when these things wouldn’t make his eyes burn and his chest ache.

A tap on the window startled him, Tara stood on the outside of his window with a mug of steaming coffee in hand, gesturing for him to roll down the window.

“It’s not vodka, sorry to say.  Next best thing given the hour?  If you don’t come in, that’s okay.  But I will say this, it’s nice to see you here two days in a row…”  She handed the mug through the open window, giving Rick’s shoulder a squeeze, then backing away with a small wave relieving him of her company and interaction.  Tara was a wonderful soul.  As kind as she was sweet, and the least likely of his office staff to pass judgment on anyone.  She accepted everyone at face value, and would gladly give the shirt off her back without reason.  She had single-handedly kept his business afloat in his absence, responding to all the customer inquiries, handling the new business with ease, and touching base only when absolutely necessary.  He owned her a tremendous debt.

“It’s just a few phone calls.  You can handle this,” he grumbled to himself, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him.  Sitting at his desk felt strange.  The thin layer of dust that coated his desk wafted up in the breeze of him passing by.  His ‘inbox’ flowed over, but clearly rifled through to handle all the pertinent items.  His phone flashed with messages, but he knew those too would be responded to by Tara if he didn’t get to them first.  “After Hershel,” he promised.  He picked up the receiver and dialed the familiar number, smiling softly at the calm voice that answered after the third ring.


	8. Chapter 8

Rick managed to stay at the office for several hours before he began to feel overwhelmed.  He was due to see Hershel the following day, explore some rental properties that afternoon, and with any luck be out of Daryl’s hair by the weekend.  He still needed to deal with emptying the house and getting the contents to storage or donation, but he would ask for Hershel’s advice at their appointment, he thought.  He scooped the keys up off the file cabinet when his phone chimed with an incoming text message.  

D:   _ Going to a late lunch, care to join? _

A lunch invitation?  The company would certainly be enjoyable, and he could grab the tab when the server brought it by, it was the least he could do after Daryl had given so much of himself and his home to Rick.  And it would also provide the opportunity to apologize, yet again, for any awkwardness the previous night.

R:   _ Would love to, let me know where _

Daryl provided the name and address of a small family owned restaurant that served authentic Mexican food.   _ Best margaritas you ever tasted _ , he’d insisted.  

Daryl was already seated at a small table by the window when he arrived, a margarita in hand while he perused the menu.  He looked up at Rick and gave him a short nod, his eyes falling back to the menu and the variety of dishes to choose from.  Their waitress came back and took Rick’s drink order, and leaving them alone to make their decisions.

When the waitress returned with Rick’s drink, she took their orders and scurried back to the kitchen.  It wasn’t terribly busy, the lunch rush having already come and gone.  This afforded the some peace and quiet, to talk, or simply sit in silence which was their current state of affairs.  But before things began to sway to just that side of awkward, Rick decided to speak up.

“I made that phone call, gonna see an old friend tomorrow afternoon.  And then I’ll go see about a lease-”

“Ain’t gotta do that!” Daryl stammered, concerned blue eyes flashing in the afternoon sunlight.

“Uh, but-”

“You’re welcome ta stay, I meant what I said.”

“You seem like a private man, Daryl.  I’m just giving you back your peace and quiet.”

Daryl slouched down in his seat slightly, his face schooled but shoulders sagging in mild defeat.

“And I had a long talk, with my therapist?  He didn’t give up on me.  Was happy I called.  Don’t know what we’ll be talkin’ about tomorrow, but… you were right, first step was the hardest but it’s a weight off my shoulders.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, hm,” Rick nodded, taking a sip of his margarita, letting the sweet sour drink roll on his tongue before swallowing.  “Mmm, that’s… you were right, great margarita.”

Their food arrived, and Rick watched with a tender smile as Daryl dug in with gusto.  He at least used his utensils, but the man ate in such a manner that Rick wondered if he had once been starved.  He ate quickly, while Rick took his time, enjoying each bite, blowing his nose when the burn of the spicy food proved to be too much.  Comfort food, that’s what this felt like to him.  And the drink gave him just enough of a buzz to start to relax a little.  This wasn’t bad, being out to lunch with an… acquaintance?  Is that what Dary was?  Or was he a friend now?  Labels.  Oh, hell what did it matter.  It was better than being stuck back at the house, alone, with just memories for company.

“I really did mean what I said,” Daryl wiped his mouth and pushed his nearly empty plate to the side.  His voice was low and soft, and his eyes gentle but avoiding Rick’s.

“About?” Rick took another mouthful of his own, and chewed slowly.

“You can stay.  I know we ain’t like best friends or nothin’.  Shit, that was lame,” he chuckled.  “Didn’t mean to get weird on ya last night.  Ain’t good with people.  My mom done shared almost all my secrets with ya, and I spilled the rest last night.  Just got overwhelmed, it’s shit I don’t much care to talk about.  Ain’t got nothin’ left to hide now, and you didn’t exactly go runnin’ for the hills…  It’s a big house, we’d hardly see each other if that’s the way you’d prefer it.  An’ if you’re around, maybe that’ll convince Mother to quit fussin’ over me and go find a damn life of ‘er own.”

“So… you’ll be using me.  To get rid of your mother?”  Rick smirked, “And here I thought you wanted me around for my sparkling personality?”

“Yes. No. I mean, No I’m not usin’ you to get rid of my mother-”

“Relax, I’m teasing,” Rick quipped, finding it adorable how quickly Daryl went to flustered and awkward.   _ Adorable?  _  Did that word just run through his own inner monologue?  Pushing the thought aside, he let his mind dwell on staying at Daryl’s house.  The man was right, the house was large.  The grounds surrounding it went on for acres being one of the longest continuously run tobacco plantations in the state.  There was the forest, and the lake.  It was close enough to work and town, yet far away to allow for quiet and privacy.  The cemetery was near enough too to visit, which he had not done since the funeral.  Daryl’s home would allow him the chance to get away, but not disappear off the grid if he hid a string of “too emotional” days where he couldn’t drag himself out of bed.  This would certainly be something to discuss in further detail with Hershel, to ensure he wasn’t making a rash or illogical decision.  But his gut told him that Daryl was a kind and quiet man despite the standoffish first impression, and he certainly could use a friend in his life.  “Tell you what, give me the night to think it over.  I haven’t come up with a final plan for the house yet, and it still needs to be emptied.”

“Want help with that?  Getting stuff packed and moved?  I ain’t taken a vacation day in like 10 years.  I got time.”

“Ain’t a small house, help would be nice.  Don’t much trust movers to be… gentle, ya know?”

Daryl nodded thoughtfully, “Just let me know when.  Ain’t got no big projects goin’ on at the moment.  Takin’ on project manager of your renovation, so to speak, so I’m all yers.”

“Are you this involved with all your projects?” 

“No.  Abraham usually handles it once it’s out of the design phase.”

“Oh, interesting,”  _ very interesting indeed _ , Rick thought to himself.  Daryl was doing him a kindness, no doubt.  The two men finished their meal and made arrangements to do a walk-through of the home over the weekend to deduce how long it would take the two of them to clear out the house.  Rick breathed a sigh of relief as he waved to Daryl’s departing vehicle that the previous evening’s tension had been relieved.  And furthermore that while he still had to endure going through the remains of his family’s life, he wouldn’t be doing that alone.  He couldn’t.   


 

* * *

 

“Rick,” Dr. Greene grinned, thrusting his hand forward to grip Rick’s forearm, pulling him close and into a firm hug.  “I can not tell you how much it pleases me that you called me the other day.  You’ve been on my mind.”

Rick leaned into Hershel’s touch, and hugging him back just as firmly.  “I’ve not been a good friend, or patient.  I-”

“Really?  You’re going to apologize?  Don’t bother, it’s not necessary.  I’m sorry I didn’t come out and check in on you personally far sooner.”

Rick waved the notion away. “I don’t know what to say.  I don’t.”  He shrugged, and the two walked over to the long couch seating themselves on either end.  Rick noted how Hershel sat relaxed with one leg over his knee, and a hand absentmindedly stroking at the hair behind his ear.  

“I’m here.  To listen.   To talk.  You tell me.  I’ve been here before, Rick.  My tragedy is far less involved than yours, but… I’ve buried a wife.  I’m not without my own experience.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin?”

“What prompted the call?”

“That is a bit of a long story in itself.”

“Lucky for you, Maggie and Glenn are away for the weekend with the twins.  And I’ve got nothing else booked between now and Monday.  Tell me as little or as much as you want,” he reached over and squeezed Rick’s knee.  

Rick’s eyes betrayed him and filled with tears.  He was used to bouts of emotion.  The crippling agony that followed waking in his bed alone, and the realization that Lori and Carl were never to set foot inside their home again.  At least several times a day, for weeks after he buried them, he would be left sobbing.  Triggered by things so small as coming across Carl’s lunchbox, which still hung on its hook on the side of the refrigerator.  Or Lori’s hair ties, which were strewn about the house.  So this honesty and care from Hershel, it triggered something anew, and he was grateful.  He had given up on himself.  Where would he be right now if Daryl hadn’t crossed his path that night out on the road?  A far worse place?  Granted it had been but a few days, and there was always the risk of relapsing back into the darkness, but this… genuineness?  It made him want to try.  And that’s all he could do for now, just try.

So instead of fighting himself, being embroiled in this internal emotional battle, as he had done for the past several months, he gave in.  The tears fell like rain, and the sobs wracked through him.  At some point he had reached out and grabbed ahold of Hershel’s hand, his anchor, to keep from falling into the abyss. He didn’t want to go there, he didn't want to be there any longer.  The grips of depression had held on too tight and for far too long.  When his own grasp on Hershel’s hand lessened, and his breathing softened to just the occasional hiccup, a box of tissues appeared at his side and Hershel left the room with soft gentle promise that he would return momentarily.  

And he did, with a tray of sweet tea and slices of pecan pie.  “Maggie made this before she left for the weekend.  It’s far too much for me alone.  Let’s take it out onto the porch, what do ya say?  Little fresh air would do us good.” He gestured with the tray toward the door that led to the wrap-around porch.  Rick sniffled, and nodded, opening the door and allowing Hershel to lead the way.

They ate their pie in silence and sipped their sweet tea.  And Hershel’s gentle voice broke the quiet, “This is a stupid question, but… how have you been sleeping?”

Rick shrugged, taking another sip as he looked out over the fields and the tall grass that swayed gently in the soft breeze.  “Good sleep has always been hard to come by.  Nightmares sometimes…” he responded.

“You been eatin’ okay?”

Rick looked down at the waistband of his jeans, and the buckle that was two notches back from where it was supposed to be.  “When I remember to.”

“Exercise?”

Rick cocked his head and turned to face Hershel.  “Seriously?  Is that like a new hobby people take up when they lose their family?”

Hershel chuckled, “Grief is different for everyone, Rick.  How you process it.  How you move through it.  Some folks can accept and even embrace it far easier than others.  Depression is a common factor.  You’ve been struggling, and I’d like to help lessen that load.  With your permission, I can contact your physician and get you started on some antidepressants.”

“What? No. Why? I’m not goin’ crazy-”

“Uh-uh,” Hershel scolded.  “That’s not what I’m saying at all.  You’ve had highs and lows, yes?  I just witnessed you falling apart before me.  That’s normal, and that’s okay.  A low dose antidepressant and even something for anxiety can help level the playing field.  It makes the days more bearable, makes the ground you tread more even beneath your feet.  Help to catch you when you stumble.  Have you got a support system at all?”

Rick shook his head, “I abandoned everyone.”

Hershel nodded thoughtfully, “And who’s been tendin’ to you since your accident?  Not your girls from work, I know.  I’ll sound like a stalker but I check in with them from time to time to see how you’re doing.”

Rick ran his fingers over the few stitches on his brow.  “New friend?  I guess you could say that…”

“Oh?” Hershel sat forward in his chair, “This is interesting development.  How did you meet?  Grief counseling? Group meeting?”

“Um, no.  The architect that Lori wanted to see.  The one she spent so much time with on the phone, planning the home renovation…”

“Uh-huh, tell me more,” he encouraged.

“He… He’s a quiet fella.  Stern face.  Um.  Very focused, driven.  Highly successful.  Brilliant, really.  Not outwardly friendly, but he and his assistant came to the wake. I thought that was a nice gesture.  Anyway, the night I rolled my car… he was passing by and stopped.  Saw me bein’ a dick to the paramedic, so he talked ‘em into letting him take me to get checked out.”

“And he brought you home after, or…”

“No.  Concussion.  They wouldn’t let me go unless I had someone to watch over me.”

Hershel hummed thoughtfully.

“So you went back to his place then?”

“Well, yeah.  Old plantation house, the place is huge.  He’s got staff.  I wasn’t alone but still got my privacy, you know.  He’s actually the one that encouraged me to call.”

Hershel’s face softened to a grin, “I’ll have to thank him then, if I ever get the chance to meet him.  I’ve been worried about you.  But it looks like you’ve gotten yourself a bit of a guardian angel.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Rick leaned forward onto his knees.  “I’m thinkin’ of going ahead and making all those changes that Lori wanted.  You think it’s too soon?  I gotta empty the house and all, but… I wasn’t the perfect husband, and… I don’t know.  Is it dumb?”

“Where will you go?”

Rick smiled sheepishly.

“Daryl’s?”

Rick nodded.  “I was set to find a rental, or even buy a new place.  Somethin’ smaller.  But Daryl talked me into stayin’.”

“I like this character,” Hershel quipped.  

“Is this too fast?  Too soon? Sudden?”

“Only you can answer that.”

“Hmm.” Rick sat back, raking his hands through his hair, pushing it from his face, his fingers dragging down his cheeks and into the thick beard that had grown a bit out of control.  

“Avoid rash decisions.  But in all, remember that you are in control. You, and only you can decide when you’re ready to move on to new things.  You are the one that is in control of this home project.  You can start it when you’re ready, and you can stop it if it gets to be too much.”

“I am a little nervous, I guess.”

“It is a significant undertaking.  What bothers you the most about it?”

“Memories.  Packing up those memories into boxes and moving them to storage.  I buried my son.  A buried my pregnant wife, who was pregnant with my best friend’s child.  I buried my best friend.  It’s happy memories, and feelings of betrayal.”

“It’s very overwhelming.”

“Yeah…”

“I would like you to consider the medication.  It takes about a month to be fully effective, but I can get you Xanax as well to calm those particularly difficult moments.”

“Maybe…”

Hershel nodded, tipping back his glass and swallowing the last of his sweet tea.  The sky was beginning to change color with the setting of the sun, and Rick sighed at the realization that the day was quickly coming to an end.  He had been with Hershel for hours, and feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted.

“Think on it, like I said, no rash decisions.”

Rick rubbed tiredly at his eyes, “I’ll do that.”

“I’m about due for supper.  You’re welcome to stay, but I’ll take no offense if you choose to take a breather.”

Rick stood and stretched, and held his hand out to Hershel.  “Thank you, Dr. Greene.  I think I’ll take a quiet night.  I’ve done more today than I have in the last several months combined.  Probably overdid it a bit.”

Hershel shook Rick’s hand firmly, “And if it gets to be too much at any time, you know where to find me.  And for goodness sake, it’s Hershel.  We’re not in high school anymore.”

Rick chuckled, “Thank you, Hershel.”  He carried the tray into the kitchen and bid the older man good night.  The drive back to Daryl’s was blessedly short, and when he arrived the sun was just settling below the horizon.  The sky was was cloudless, running the full gamut of color from deep purple blue to fiery orange.  He breathed deeply, the sweet scent of fresh cut hay filling his nose.  That, and fried food.  He followed his nose into the house, kicking off his shoes at the door and walking silently into the kitchen.  Daryl was at the stove, battered jeans hanging from his slim hips, and a worn sleeveless shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.  The crackle and spit of hot oil got his attention, and he moved to peer over Daryl’s shoulder at the pans on the stove.  

“Shit man,” Daryl startled.  “Wasn’t expectin’ ya so soon.”

“Sorry.  What are ya cookin’?”

“Hush puppies, fried chicken, mashed taters… biscuits in the oven. Gravy over there.  Fuck the carbs, figured a little comfort food might be in order.  Looks like it too.  Y’alright?”

Rick groaned, sidestepping Daryl to grab a beer from the fridge, grimacing as the movement reminded him of his still healing injuries.  “Do I look that bad?”

“Nah.  Bit pale, still bruised, little… troubled?” He reached over the various pots and pans, stirring the gravy, flipping the fried chicken, and tending to the hush puppies.  “Do I need to bust out the hard liquor, or…”

Rick sat on the stool, leaning heavily on the counter and took a sip of his beer.  “Exhausted.  I think I did too much today.  Going to lay low tomorrow. Maybe… look over those plans you did up for the house?  I know I said I wanted to move forward, but now-”

“You changed your mind?”

“No, I still want to.  I just need time.”

Daryl nodded, “Fair’s fair, man.  I get it.”

“Why are you don’ this?  Why are you bein’ so nice to me?”  Rick’s voice had an  air of defensiveness to it, seemingly to catch Daryl off guard.  He set his spoon down, and turned toward Rick.  

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It costs nothing to be kind.  And I know what it’s like to be on the asking end for help, and receiving shit in response.  I know what it’s like to hit rock fucking bottom, and have nothin’ or no one but m’self to grab and claw my way back up.  A person should be able to rely on only themselves, but fact of the matter is we’re all human.  We can go it alone, sure.  But havin’ someone, anyone… makes a hell of a difference.”

“You think I can’t do this?” Rick asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “You ain’t no lost cause, Rick Grimes.  Just been dealt the shit end of the stick.  You’ll come out okay in the end, but it’ll be some hard work.”  Daryl’s hands were on his hips, almost challenging Rick to disagree with him.  “I’ll tell ya somethin’ else too.  Little quote that helped me to get by.  I hated every word of it at the time, but I hope someday it comes true.”

“I’m listening,” Rick responded, cocking his head to the side.

“You don’t need another human being to make your life complete, but let’s be honest.  Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul, but cracks to put your love into, is the most calming thing in the world.  Emery Allen said that.”

Rick clamped his mouth shut, his jaw clenching tight.  With a subtle nod, he stood from the chair taking the beer with him, and walked out the door and onto the patio.  Staring up at the now star strewn sky, he let his head hang back and willed the tears away.  He didn’t want to love again.  His relationship with Lori was far from perfect, but he’d rather protect his own heart and be alone than endure the potential loss of another love.  But damn if he didn’t want someone to hold him tight, and make the pain go away.  Just five minutes.  Couldn’t he get five more minutes with his family?  To tousle Carl’s hair, and hold him to his chest, feeling his little heart thrum against his own.  To kiss Lori on that tender spot behind her ear that always reduced her to shy giggles because it tickled so, and see that bright smile once more.  Hell, he’d even take one of Shane’s “no-homo” hugs he would sometimes get after a bad day at work or a fight with Lori.  As much as he didn’t want to admit it, to admit that Daryl and that Emery Allen character were right, he knew someday he was going to need somebody to love again.

When he turned around to head back inside, Daryl was standing in the doorway leaning against the frame.  He rested his head against the wood and raised a brow in question.

“I need a month,” Rick’s chin trembled, but he held himself together.  “Give me one month to get my head screwed back on right.  Can we do that? Then I can move forward with the house project, and life, and everything I’ve been neglecting.”

Daryl didn’t speak, but he nodded and held out an arm gesturing for Rick to come inside.  As he passed through the door, Daryl’s hand came down to the small of his back, guiding him to the dining room table to sit down to eat.  A glass of scotch appeared at his side, and Daryl sat down across from him.  He made a mental note to call Hershel first thing in the morning and get himself started on medication.  Tonight, he would let the scotch numb him from the inside out, finding some comfort in knowing that Daryl would be there to pick up the pieces in the morning.   _ If Daryl hadn’t come across the accident scene, I’d probably be dead _ , he thought to himself.   _ Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but _ …  He squeezed his eyes shut and let the scotch flow down his throat.  Daryl filled his glass twice more before shutting him off.  

“Eat, man.  Or you’ll be sicker ‘an a dog come mornin’.”

No more words were shared that night, but not long after dinner, Daryl slung Rick’s arm over his shoulder, and with a hand at his belt, he helped Rick up the stairs to his room.  He pulled off Rick’s shirt, and helped the man out of his pants.  The sheets were pulled back, and he grabbed the wastebasket from the bathroom putting it at the bedside, just in case.  The blankets were tucked in snug around Rick, and he caught his eye to bid him goodnight when Rick’s own looked toward the chair by the bed.  _  Want me to stay? Just for a little while. _  He settled himself down into the plush chair, getting comfortable with his feet propped up on Rick’s bed.  Rick’s eyes stared back him, and Daryl watched as the lids grew heavy and finally closed.  He too was soon lulled to sleep by Rick’s soft breathing.   



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merle makes an appearance, and he's a prick unfortunately.

A month had passed.  Rick remained at Daryl’s home.  He returned to work, managing several days a week to meet with existing clients for their annual reviews, and even pulled in some new business.  Coupled with antidepressants, and regular walks around the grounds of Daryl’s property with him, he was beginning to feel almost human again.  Construction was set to start in two week’s time on his home, and they had chosen this day to do a walkthrough.  Rick hadn’t been home in a month.  He had stopped in long enough to grab some clothes, but that was it.  Daryl arranged for a delivery of moving boxes, and a box truck that the two would work on loading and preparing for storage.

Now Rick stood poised at the top step of the small front porch, house key in hand.  Daryl had followed him up the steps, and was now leaning against the house next to the door, waiting for Rick to unlock and open the door.  Several minutes passed, and Rick finally stepped forward.  His hand trembled as he lifted the key to the lock, and he swallowed hard as the key slid home.  Hands dropped to his side and he took a shuddering breath.

“Hey, we ain’t gotta do this today,” Daryl put a hand to Rick’s abdomen, helping to hold him in place.  To stop him from unnecessarily rushing forward, offering his support in whatever way Rick needed it in that moment.

“If not today, then when? I can’t keep dragging it out like this.  Ain’t healthy.  We’ll be comin’ up on the one year anniversary soon.  And what have I accomplished since they’ve been gone?  A big fat nothing, that’s what.”

“You’re still here.  Trust me, that’s an accomplishment.”

“Is it?  Because what have I got to show for all this?  For getting married, and havin’ a family, an’-”

Daryl put a finger to Rick’s lips, effectively stopping his tirade.

“There is no set timeline for grief.  May be ten years down the line, and the moment them cops showed up on yer doorstep to give you the worse news of your life, that memory?  It’ll still make you want to lay down an’ cry.  This isn’t something you can fix with time away, and some medication.  It’s always gonna hurt.”

“So, what?  I’m supposed to just accept it? Move on?”

“The way yer sayin’ it, like it’s a bad thing?  No.  You’ll find yer peace, ya just gotta be patient.  Ya gotta try… or not try.  Whatever gets ya through the day.”

“That don’t sound much like livin’.”

“It’s not.  Fuck.  Won’t tell ya there’s better things to come, but… Okay, how about this.  Are things better now than they were six months ago?”

Rick leaned forward banging his head against the door.  “Yes.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Daryl tugged Rick back, and took his face between his own hands forcing the man to look him in the eye.  “You can do this.  You made it this far.  You’ve survived a month of Sunday dinners with my momma.  You’ve survived a month of her near daily unannounced visits.  You’ve drug yourself to Hershel’s any time you’ve felt out of place or off or like you just couldn’t deal. That’s strength, man!”

Rick sagged against Daryl’s hands, and felt his thumbs grazing over his cheekbones to call him back to attention.  “Wanna go have a margarita or three, and try again this afternoon?”

“No… let’s just do this,” he grumbled.

“I got yer back,” Dary put his arm around Rick’s shoulders pulling him in snug, and put his hand over Rick’s, lifting it to the key.  Together they turned the lock, then the knob, and pushed the door wide open.

“It’s a new beginning.  You got this.”

Rick looked at Daryl’s face, the man so eager to help him, who had become a great friend over the weeks.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his chest swelling with a sharp inhale.  “I am a hot mess and an ungrateful twat most of the time, but without you… I never would have made it this far.  Thank you, I mean it.”  He turned in Daryl’s arms, reaching behind his neck to pull Daryl in, their foreheads touching, their breath mingling.  A few deep breaths, and he found some inner strength he was so desperately in need of.  He managed a small smile at Daryl’s bright eyes when he pulled back, “Alright, let’s do-”

“Darylina, that you?”  A raspy voice called out from the end of the walkway, a rugged man taking a few steps closer. Rick startled when Daryl practically shoved Rick away from him, nervously running a hand through his hair and walking off the porch.

“Uh, yeah, Merle… what’s up?”

“Ford said we was workin’ here, thought I’d take a swing by and have a look.  Gonna be here three months, he said.”

“Yeah, big overhaul.”

“Whatcha doin’ here, then? Huh?  This don’t fall under your plan of ‘services,’ do it?”

Daryl glared at Merle, “My employer provides a wide array of services, and none of what yer suggestin’, ya prick.”

“Huh, coulda fooled me the way y’all were feelin’ each other up and shit.”

“I’m here helpin’ out a friend.”

“Hand jobs a part of the package?”

“The fuck?”

Rick cocked his head listening to Daryl and Merle’s conversation.  While the manner the two had been engaged in when he showed up could very easily have been misconstrued, it was innocent.  A friend offering an unwavering support to a friend in need.  Daryl had provided a tremendous amount of support since that night on the side of the road.  That Merle would suggest it was something so derogatory was infuriating.

“Excuse me, is there a problem?” he called out as he hopped off the porch and joined them on the sidewalk.

“You like puttin’ on shows for yer neighbors?”

“Shows?  No.  That was a friend helping another friend out.  He’s also being paid for  _ architectural and design services _ while I upgrade and renovate my home.”

“I know the kind of  _ friends _ Darylina likes to keep,” Merle growled, and turning to Daryl he continued.  “Think Dad would approve of you hanging all over each other and carrying on like that?  Whatsa matter?  Cain’t get a little pussy at the bar, you gotta go rub up against the menfolk now?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Rick stood so he was shoulder to shoulder with Daryl.  “Think what you want, but this is my property and right now yer trespassin’.”

Merle’s eyes reduced to a squinting glare that someone would possess the testicular fortitude to tell him what to do.

“Got the cops on speed dial,” he pulled a phone from his pocket.  “Ain’t nothin’ to hit that send button.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Rick, put the phone away,” Daryl pushed his hand away gently. “Merle.  This is my friend, Rick.  Rick, this is my brother Merle.  I’m sorry you two had to meet each other this way.  Lets just all calm the fuck down, alright?”

“This the same Rick that yer shackin’ up with?”

“You been talkin’ to momma, I see.  You two kiss and make up?” Daryl tried desperately to turn the conversation away from getting ugly.

“Woman ain’t got no filter-”

Rick snorted at that, Merle was right, Annabelle lacked the certain  _ je ne sais pas _ to keep her trap shut.  Perhaps she didn’t know what constituted private conversation and what was appropriate to say in public, but clearly the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

“Dinner.  Sunday.  Why don’t you come over and we’ll have us a proper introduction and everyone can get to know each other a little better.  Rick’s stayin’ for the time bein’ while his house gets worked on.  And Momma would love havin’ ya over for dinner.  Free food, and beer if yer on yer best behavior.”

The sound of a free meal was appealing to Merle, and he took a step back nodding his head.  “Can’t argue with that, I guess.”

“Good.  We’ll see you Sunday.  Go on ‘bout yer business.  We gotta get inside and empty this place out so you and Abraham and the crew can work some magic. Alright?”

Rick waggled his fingers at Merle, a rather obnoxious goodbye wave, to which Merle responded with a one finger salute.  “Fine.  See ya, Sunday,” he spat on the ground and sauntered back to his vehicle, hopped in, and drove away.

“So… that’s your brother?” Rick chuckled.

Daryl nodded, “Charming, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” Rick pat Daryl on the chest as he turned to go toward the house.  The manic beat of his heart, caught Rick’s attention and his hand stilled over Daryl’s left pectoral.

“Dar, y’alright?”

“Yeah, man.  Come on’ let’s go inside, I smell rain.”

With the tables now turned, Rick led the way, a hand on Daryl’s back ushering him along.  “Kitchen is neutral territory, we’ll start there,” he offered.

For fifteen minutes or so, Rick allowed Daryl to stew over his own thoughts.  The presence of Merle had riled him, and Rick was curious and wanted to ask why.  But Daryl was the kind of person that required time and quiet thought before he could effectively communicate in a coherent manner, so Rick stayed quiet and let his own thoughts wander. He let his eyes linger on Daryl when he wasn’t looking.  Across the broad expanse of the other man’s shoulders, and the way his hair caught up in the collar of his shirt.  Daryl was in need of a haircut, no doubt, but Rick rather liked it just as it was.  A delightful shaggy mess that produced some of the sexiest bedhead he had ever seen.   _ Sexiest _ ? When had that happened?  Sure, he always had a soft spot for Daryl’s blue eyes, but this was something more.  The thought of running his hand through that hair made his stomach clench. What would it be like to see that hair splayed out across the pillow in the early morning light.  There was more, but the sound of the packing tape being pulled from the roll snapped Rick from his thoughts, and he looked over at Daryl sealing up the box.

“Tell me more about Merle?” He asked, seeing that Daryl had relaxed somewhat, his movements smoother and less harsh with packing the cookware.

“He’s what you saw.  Homophobic prick.”

“And he thinks we’re together?  Why’s that?”

Daryl pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down with a huff.  “How much did Mother overshare with you?”

“Within an hour of meeting her she told me about your engagement, potential adoption, and how she didn’t like the way you were lookin’ at me.”

“Goddammit. Is nothing sacred?”

Rick pulled out the chair next to Daryl, and sat down.  “Ain’t gotta tell me, I’m sorry I asked.”

“Nah, the more you know the better, I guess.  Merle knew I had a guy in my life, but he was in prison at the time.  As far as I know, Momma never got his ear on that.  Which is shocking.  He’s got meth buddies that hang out down by the hardware, probably heard something about me from Momma during her visits with Mr. Horvath, twisted it because it’s the fuckin’ south and there ain’t no open-mindedness here.  But you were married so I don’t get the attack on you.”

Rick replayed the conversation in his mind, right down to that one question Annabelle had asked about his past.  And it all made sense.

“Did your mother ever clarify what it was that we discussed?”

Daryl shook his head, prompting Rick to continue.  

“She asked me if I had ever been with a man.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Not really, it was a valid question given your past.”

“Valid, how?”

“I enjoy more than just the female form.  I’m not straight.”  When Daryl’s jaw hit the floor in realization, Rick stood up and went back to packing boxes.  “I guess Momma didn’t share that tidbit with you after all.”

“Fuck…” he heard Daryl whisper to himself.  

They were able to empty the kitchen, and started on the living room before Rick announced he’d had enough.  “Let’s end the day on a high note, before this gets to be too much for me.”

Daryl nodded, and the two men locked the door and got into the car.  “Don’t feel like goin’ back just yet, wanna hit Murph’s for greasy food and beer?”

“Starved,” Rick responded. 

The two took a seat in the corner of the small smoke filled bar.  Daryl lit a cigarette and ordered them a pitcher of beer.  The first pint went down fast, along with the second, and the third he was able to slow the pace down.

“Here I thought I’d be the one gettin’ drunk tonight,” Rick chuckled.

Daryl shrugged, “Sorry…”

“What’s goin’ on?” Rick dipped his head to catch Daryl’s eyes.  “There a problem with the latest revelation?”  

Daryl shook his head no, and finished off his third pint of beer.  “No problem.”

“Cat got yer tongue then?”

“Can we order food?  Are you hungry? I’m gonna go find that waitress…” Daryl hopped off his seat and threw the small sea of tables to the bar.  Rick got the hint to drop it, so he shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair.  Nature called, so he wound his way over to the restrooms only to almost smack into Daryl on his way out.

“Shit,” Daryl grumbled, taking a step back and holding the door open.  Rick stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and leaning it against him so Daryl couldn’t leave.  

“We alone?” he asked.  Daryl replied with a nod.  “Does this… does this change things?  Do I make you uncomfortable now?”

Rick watched as the blood drained from Daryl’s face.  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.  Opening your home to me, being a friend when needed it the most… but if this is too much, I understand.  I can find another place-”

“No.”

“Will you tell me?”

Daryl would not look at Rick, instead he leaned against the sink with his arms crossed.

“Am I still your friend?” Rick asked taking a step forward.  Daryl nodded.  “Does my being close bother you?”

Daryl shook his head no, his hands falling to his sides as he stood a little straighter.   Rick cocked his head to get full view of Daryl’s downturned face, raising a finger to rest a knuckle beneath Daryl’s chin, gently pushing it up so they were eye to eye.  Rick was in his space, they were mere inches apart, and he stared at the man in wonder.   

“She knows how you feel.  Knew how you felt then… She didn’t tell you, to protect you…” Rick thought aloud about Annabelle’s words that first day, reaching up to push the strands of hair from Daryl’s eyes.  “Your eyes, they’re my favorite thing about you,” Rick smiled.  “The blue made me catch my breath that first time I saw you in the lobby.  Watching you work your magic over my wife… any other man would have been insane with jealousy, but… you made her happy.  Watching you work, it made  _ me _ happy.  I still get lost in your eyes,” he ran a finger over Daryl’s brow, smoothing the hair, and softening the expression on Daryl’s face.  “I liked you from the very beginning.”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, licking his lips, eyes darting between Rick’s.  

“You too then, huh?”

Daryl nodded eagerly, and honestly.  

“I’m not ready to… I can’t… I’m grateful, for you,” Rick breathed, leaning in closer.  “I’m not making a lick of sense, but…” Rick closed his eyes as he leaned him, pressing his lips to Daryl’s, tasting the hint of cigarette smoke and beer as Daryl let him slide his tongue past his lips.  Rick’s hands slid into Daryl’s hair, holding him close, their bodies melding together until Daryl finally pulled back with a gasp, the necessity of air precluding the furtherment of their activity.

“Thank you, Daryl,” Rick’s cheeks flushed pink, as he stepped back giving the other man some room.  

“What for?”

“I dwelled so long on the negative.  You turned it to a positive.  My marriage may have been a sham near the end, but you put a smile on Lori’s face that I hadn’t been able to for quite awhile.  I’m just shit at picking up on those details sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed.  “Um.  Our food, it’s probably almost ready.”

“Right,” Rick huffed.  “Right.”

Rick relinquished control of the door to Daryl, smiling at him as he went to leave.  A moment later the door popped back open, and Daryl’s head came around.  “Was this… was it just a thank you or…”

Rick grinned, “It’s a new beginning, Daryl.  But I’ll need time.”

The relieved chuckle that escaped Daryl, made Rick smile wider.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with tryin’ new things,” he quipped, pulling the door closed.

“Oh, what have I done?” Rick chuckled to himself, “I am a goddamn hot mess and just multiplied exponentially…”  His fingers grazed over his lips, still feeling the warmth and moisture from Daryl there.  That man, that enigmatic man, he’d only known him for a short while but what an effect he had on him already.  He had pulled Rick from the depths of despair.  He had given him another reason to believe in life again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Tell me what you think of the story?
> 
> UPDATE: Yes, there are two more parts to this series planned, the next will be the beginnings of their relationship. Coming Soon-ish!


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